


Waltz of the Dreamers

by Fallynleaf



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Time, M/M, Post-Canon, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:42:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22744195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallynleaf/pseuds/Fallynleaf
Summary: Arthur and Eames take a job that requires them to pretend to be a couple at an extravagant ball.
Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception), Original Female Character(s)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 201





	Waltz of the Dreamers

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this completely out of the blue in early 2019, after which it languished in my hard drive for a year for no good reason. In honor of International Fanworks Day, I decided to finally clean it up enough to share it!

It started, as it always did, with a job.

They rode the high of the inception job for a good several weeks before any of them looked for work. Dom swore it all off for good, retiring from the life of dream crime in order to be a good, upstanding father to his children. Ariadne was all in initially, but ended up deciding to fly back to Paris to resume her schooling.

Arthur figured it would not be the last that any of them heard from her. She'll get bored with trying to live a normal life. She'll be back.

Just as Arthur was itching to find another job, he got a call from Eames.

"Are you looking for work?" Eames asked.

"Depends on the work," Arthur said.

"Easy job. A simple extraction. A baby could do it."

"Not interested," Arthur said, his thumb reaching to end the call.

"Okay, it's not that simple," Eames said quickly. "It's an extraction, but it's also an inception. A little bit of both. And there's good money in it."

That had Arthur intrigued. He decided not to hang up. Not yet, at least.

"I'm putting together a team," Eames said. "Yusuf is in. We had Ariadne, but lost her to the sweet siren song of exams and stuffy lecture halls. You're my second choice. Or third, I guess."

"I'm glad I rank so highly in your esteem," Arthur said sarcastically.

"Well, we really need an architect, but Dom's out of the game, and Ariadne's taking a breather, and there isn't really anyone else I'm willing to work with, so by process of elimination, that leaves me with you."

Arthur sighed. "Let's meet in person. I'm not committing to this until I've heard all of the details."

Eames clicked his tongue. "Where's your sense of adventure, Arthur? Ever heard of taking a leap of fai—"

Arthur hit end call. He placed his phone back in his pocket. A few seconds later, he felt it vibrate with a text.

"monday 2pm cafe that you hate. you know the one."

* * *

Eames sipped a cup of tea as he waited for Arthur. It was good tea, albeit a little overbrewed. The cafe was a twee hipster kind of place, and they didn't appear to believe in straining out their tea leaves. By the time Arthur arrived, Eames was lapping up the dregs, and the liquid remaining in his teapot was really more leaf than tea.

"Took you long enough," Eames said.

Arthur checked his watch. "It's 1:59," he said.

"I thought you liked to arrive early," Eames said. "You're losing your touch, Arthur."

He stood up and carried his empty tea cup and teapot over to the bin for dirty dishes. Then he exited the cafe, with Arthur right behind him. They moseyed down the block at a nice walking pace.

"Where are we really going?" Arthur asked.

"Not far from here. It's an old warehouse about half a dozen blocks away," Eames said. He stepped over a large puddle that Arthur gave an overly wide berth.

"Why is it always an old warehouse?" Arthur said.

"Because we're criminals, Arthur," Eames said.

Arthur did not grace his remark with a reply. They walked the remaining blocks in silence.

Then Eames casually slipped into an alleyway, Arthur following after. He stuck a key in an unlabeled metal door, jostling it a few times to get it in. Semi-illicit copies never quite fit the locks as well as they should.

The echo of the door's opening filled the emptiness of the building. A light flickered on, and a woman stood underneath it, arms crossed, waiting for Eames and Arthur to approach.

Vita Lake cut a very striking figure. She wore a crisp suit that surely impressed even Arthur, her short hair slicked back, eyes sharp with wit. She was slim but broad-shouldered, with pale skin, and was not the kind of woman to wear heels, though Eames had seen her make an exception once before.

This was the second job that Vita had hired Eames to do. He hoped it would be as productive as the first had been.

"Vita, this is Arthur," Eames said. "First rate point man, third rate architect."

She gave Arthur a once-over, her eyes sweeping down his body from head to toe. She looked unimpressed. "Is this really the best that you could do, Eames?" she said.

"He's good at what he does," Eames admitted.

"How about you tell me about the job, and I'll decide if I actually want to take it," Arthur cut in.

"Fine. If Eames vouches for you, I'll give you a chance to prove yourself," Vita said. "On one level, the job is simple. I need you to go into the mind of a woman named Virginia Colman and gauge her reaction to a particular bit of information. Then report what you observed back to me. If your intel pans out, then you will be handsomely rewarded."

"I'm afraid I'm going to need to know more than that," Arthur said.

Vita's mouth narrowed to a thin line. "Very well," she said. "You want all of the details? I'll give them to you. I need someone to get in Virginia's head and see how she reacts to the idea that I'm in love with her. If she's receptive, then I want to make a move, but if she's not, then I don't want to ruin our friendship. You're wondering what the catch is. The catch is that Virginia's subconscious is currently in the process of being militarized, so I can't exactly go in myself, and even if I could, I wouldn't want to violate her trust in that way."

"Ah, and there's another catch," Eames added. "Our best opportunity will be during a ball that Virginia is throwing in a couple months, during which she'll be staying in a lavish hotel. We should be able to slip into her hotel room without much of a problem, and can infiltrate her dreams then. However, the woman who militarized Virginia's mind, Juno, will also be present at the ball, and we've worked together in the past, which means she'll undoubtedly recognize and suspect me immediately."

"Normally, I'd just toss him out of the team and hire someone else," Vita said. "But this job requires an expert forger, and furthermore, it requires a forger that I trust, and unfortunately, Eames is the only person who fits the bill. So we'll need to come up with a plausible excuse for Eames to be at the ball that will not arouse Juno's suspicion."

"You sound like you've already come up with an excuse," Arthur said, glancing from Vita to Eames.

He was right, of course.

"Yes, but I'm afraid you're not going to like it," Eames said.

Tell me your plan, and then I'll tell you if I'm in or not," Arthur said.

Eames told him. Arthur did not like it. But even so, he still agreed to do the job. Despite their many differences, Arthur and Eames really did speak the same language after all.

* * *

"I can't believe I agreed to do this," Arthur said. They were in his apartment, which was small and austere and sterile, somewhere to leave rather than somewhere to come home to.

"I'm still not convinced that you even have it in you," Eames said. "You couldn't act your way into a high school production of Oklahoma. You simply don't have the imagination." He said perched on the arm of a leather sofa.

"I can act when I want to," Arthur muttered.

"But this is more than just acting. This is pulling a long con. You're a criminal, but you're not a conman, Arthur."

"If you didn't think I could do it, then why'd you ask me to?" Arthur asked, irritated.

"Because I'm waiting for you to prove me wrong," Eames said.

Arthur couldn't decide if that was meant as a compliment to his ability to defy Eames's expectations, or if it was meant simply as an insult.

"Okay, you know what?" Eames said. "Get out the PASIV. Let's practice."

"Practice?"

"Yes, Arthur, practice. Just like any other actor preparing for their role before the big show."

"How much practice do we even need to do?" Arthur said, standing up to go fetch the PASIV. He'd kind of expected that they could just walk into the ball, and everyone would more or less take them at their word, since they'd be there with an entirely plausible excuse. When Arthur's acting ability failed them, as it was bound to do, then Eames could swoop in with an improvised recovery, as he always did.

"It depends on how good you are," Eames said. "This is part of the research phase, so I'm surprised to hear you making excuses. I thought research was the only part of the whole process that you actually liked."

Arthur placed the PASIV on the coffee table. It made a loud sound against the glass surface.

"Be a dear and generate a lovely fancy ball setting for us, will you?" Eames asked, while they hooked themselves up.

They went under.

Suddenly, Arthur was standing in the corner of a great ballroom, the area filled with the shockingly well-dressed projections of Eames's subconscious. Arthur glanced at Eames, and right away, he knew this wasn't going to work. Their outfits clashed completely. Eames wore something that maybe passed for formal wear, but it was not appropriate for a ball, and the colors didn't even pair well with what Arthur had on.

"Okay, show me some of that hidden acting talent of yours," Eames said, turning toward Arthur. "Convince me that you're in love with me."

Arthur stared at him. He took in that terrible tux, that irritating smug look on Eames's face, the spark of a challenge in his voice. Then Arthur leaned in and kissed him. It lasted for just a moment, and then he pulled away.

Eames started laughing. "You think _that's_ going to work?" he said. "That little chaste peck on the lips?"

"I don't see why I have to convince _you_ ," Arthur said. "The only person who matters is Juno."

"The most important rule of acting is that you need to believe in the fiction yourself, to some degree," Eames said. "You need to physically inhabit that character."

Eames reached for Arthur, wrapping an arm around his waist, and Arthur leaned away from the contact.

"And acting like you're in love with someone is more than just kissing them," Eames said. "When you're in love with someone, you're comfortable in their presence. It's about intimacy, really. The small touches, the quiet closeness." He pulled Arthur toward him, and Arthur reached out and shoved him away.

Eames let him pull away. "This, darling, is why we need to practice," he said.

In the background, the projections danced and swirled around each other, paying no mind to Arthur's intrusive presence.

"When I love someone, that's not what I'm like," Arthur said.

"But it's what other people will be expecting," Eames said. "They'll look at you pushing me away and they won't see a private, sensitive soul, or whatever you think you're being. They'll see a prickly arsehole who doesn't want to be there. You have to love me like someone who would let his boyfriend take him out on a romantic getaway to a ball.

 _I don't know how to do that_ , Arthur thought, but did not admit out loud. He refused to admit that this job was outside of his abilities. He knew that Eames and Vita both doubted him, and even though this was already pushing him far outside of his comfort zone, he was determined to prove that he could do it. By the end of this, he would convince even Eames.

He did not admit, even to himself, that he didn't actually know what he was like when he loved someone, because he'd never actually been in love before. He just assumed that he was not the kind of person who exchanged constant casual touches with his lover, who enjoyed dancing and public outings and romantic vacations. The kind of person who looked like he was in love.

But Eames was right. Arthur was not here to be Arthur; he was here to be Eames's boyfriend, who was an entirely different person and an entirely fictitious character.

Eames held out a hand.

Arthur stared down at it. Then he reached out and took it.

When Eames tugged him closer, he froze, but did not pull away.

Eames rolled his eyes. "Well, it's an improvement, at least," he said. He released Arthur, and Arthur felt a sudden lack of warmth, and then he woke up.

* * *

The next time they practiced, Eames tried something different.

They hooked themselves up again, and the familiar ball scene sprung into existence around them, this time modified with a few extra embellishments. Arthur had given Eames some frankly patronizing advice about proper ball attire, and Eames had tried his best, but Arthur was shaking his head at him, which meant that Eames had missed something important, but you know what? They didn't have to practice the clothes. They would just buy suitable outfits ahead of time. And besides, Juno wouldn't care if their outfits weren't perfect. They could arrive in brown paper bags and still get away with it as long as they looked like they were in love.

Eames reached for Arthur, and felt him tense up as he always did. Eames just sighed and let go of him. "Okay, clearly this isn't working," he said. "How about we try this instead?"

He focused really hard on the image of a woman, one of his favorites, a leggy brunette that made every horny businessman stutter when she made eyes at him.

"Is this better for you?" Eames asked, wearing the woman's voice and body.

Arthur flushed. "No," he said. "It's even worse." He turned and stalked away.

"Are you sure?" Eames asked, following after. "It might help if you pretend I'm someone else, someone that you're actually into. If you're not into brunettes, I'm sure I've got someone that's your type up my sleeve."

"How will that help?" Arthur asked, turning to scowl at him. "You can't wear someone else's face when we're at the actual ball. Even if it helped here, it's useless practice for the actual job."

"You need to get more comfortable with me," Eames said. "Anything that helps with that will help with the job."

"Then this is the opposite of helping, because I'm more uncomfortable around you when you look like that," Arthur said.

Eames changed back. He caught the brief expression of relief that passed over Arthur's face. "What's wrong with fantasizing about being with a pretty woman?" Eames asked.

"I don't like it when people lie to me," Arthur said.

"Then you're in the wrong line of work, darling." Eames reached for Arthur's arm, and this time Arthur let Eames touch him without reacting to it. Eames pulled Arthur closer and, ah, there it was. He could feel Arthur's discomfort at his proximity. "You need to stop tensing up like that," Eames said, releasing him again.

"Can't help it," Arthur said.

"What about this is so difficult for you?" Eames asked.

"Maybe it's because I'm straight."

Eames barked out a laugh. "Oh, spare me," he said. "You don't need to be into me to be my fake boyfriend. You're acting, remember? Playing pretend. Didn't you ever do that when you were a boy?"

He hadn't even entertained the thought that Arthur might be straight, but then, he'd never really considered Arthur's sexuality before. As a rule, Eames didn't sleep with anyone he worked with. He liked to keep work and pleasure separate. He was a professional, after all.

Eames looked Arthur over, reevaluating the situation. "Perhaps we should try a different approach," he said.

Arthur regarded him with a question in his eyes. Eames reached out and grabbed Arthur's face, feeling him flinch. Then Eames leaned in and kissed him. It was an easy, gentle kiss. The kind of kiss you'd give to someone after a first date. Arthur did not kiss him back, but he didn't try to twist his head away, either.

"See? Not so bad, is it?" Eames asked. He stroked Arthur's face gently, then let go of him.

"Is that how you kiss all of your marks?" Arthur asked.

"You're my mark right now, darling," Eames said. "And I'm yours." He grasped Arthur's wrist loosely, sliding his fingers down until they reached Arthur's hand. "Find or fabricate the part of you that enjoys this, and let yourself enjoy it while it's happening. That's my tip. You're just overthinking it."

Arthur grabbed Eames's hand, curling his fingers around it like a vice. He yanked Eames forward, and Eames raised an eyebrow, but before anything else could happen, the dream ended, and they both woke up.

* * *

A few days later, Arthur once again opened the door to his apartment and found Eames standing there. He gestured for Eames to come in, internally grousing about how on earth he'd gotten himself into a situation where Eames was appearing regularly on his doorstep. He moved to get out the PASIV.

"No," Eames said.

Arthur paused.

"I think the PASIV is just serving as a distraction right now," Eames said. "At this stage of the research, we'd be better off just working in the field."

"What do you mean by that?" Arthur asked.

"The two of us are going to the park. And we are going to walk around the park as a couple."

Arthur felt a cold rush of dread go through him. "Why?" he asked.

"Why not? It's a nice day outside, and it's much better practice than mucking around in our minds where there aren't any actual people around to see us and judge us."

"But—" Arthur started.

"We don't have to kiss or anything," Eames said. "Just walk around and at least put up an appearance of enjoying each other's presence."

A few minutes later, Arthur found himself stepping outside his building into the bright afternoon light with Eames at his side. The walk to the park was brief and quiet. Arthur tried not to act sullen, knowing that Eames would tease him for it, but he didn't understand the point of this exercise. He didn't understand the point of any of it.

The nice weather irrationally irritated Arthur. Children played on the swing-set and ran about in the grass, laughing and screaming, while parents sat on park benches and conversed amongst themselves. A few couples were out strolling, walking at a leisurely pace, standing just slightly too close to each other.

Eames turned and held out his hand. Arthur looked down at it. Eames quirked an eyebrow, waiting patiently. Arthur sighed and reached for his hand.

As they walked, Arthur realized that he didn't know how to talk to Eames outside of work. They'd never really spent a significant amount of time alone together.

An old man gave them a suspicious look as they passed, his eyes narrowed, and Arthur wished he could detach himself from Eames and run back to the security of the indoors.

"We aren't exactly inconspicuous," Arthur muttered.

"The plan was never to be inconspicuous, darling," Eames said. "And actually, the more noticeable I am to Juno, the better. As long as I'm in plain sight, just spending time with my boyfriend and talking with my friend Vita, she won't see me as a threat."

"There aren't going to be many other gay couples there, will there?" Arthur asked.

"No, I don't think there will be. That's why our acting must be impeccable. Because people will be watching."

Arthur stared at a young couple, a man and a girl with wavy red hair, who were walking a few dozen paces in front of him. "The job would've been so much easier with Ariadne," Arthur said, remembering that she had been Eames's first choice.

"Perhaps," Eames said. He squeezed Arthur's hand. "But I thought you were up to the challenge."

They stopped at a little placard set up in the midst of some flowers and other plants that overlooked the pond. Arthur scanned the placard, taking in the information on it without actually reading it. It described some of the native wildlife in the area. There was an illustration of ducks among the weeds painted along the bottom half of the sign. Arthur glanced up, and sure enough, a handful of ducks were out on the water.

Eames's hand felt warm in his grasp. Arthur lifted it up and absently traced the lines on Eames's palm with his fingers.

The breeze felt pleasant on Arthur's skin, the sun warm but not hot, and he could hear the sound of the ducks in the pond behind him. He realized, after a while, that he had just been standing there with Eames's hand clutched in his hands, saying nothing. He let go of Eames, and it felt like a trance had been broken.

After they rejoined the path, Eames headed for a bench beneath a tree. He sat down, and then Arthur sat next to him.

"This is exhausting," Arthur said, tipping his head back. "I'd rather stay up all night going through files than spend a day doing your kind of research."

"It's literally a walk in the park," Eames said, smirking.

 _Maybe for you_ , Arthur thought, unwilling to allow him the joke. He leaned forward, his hands resting on his thighs, impatient. Eames was a still and steady shape beside him, immobile and relaxed. Arthur turned and glanced at him, and found Eames staring at him with an appraising sort of look in his eyes.

Arthur appraised him back. He didn't know how to examine a mark in the manner that Eames did, but he tried his best, trying to read Eames's body language, evaluating what he was expecting from Arthur. His expectations were low, Arthur realized. Eames didn't think Arthur could do it. Not this practice run in the park, much less the actual job.

Suddenly, the thing Arthur wanted more than anything else in the entire world was to prove Eames wrong. He thought about the couple he'd seen walking in the park, about what Eames's hand had felt like in his hand. _What would I do, if I was the kind of person who liked all of this?_ Arthur thought. He let the thought wash over his mind like the warmth from the sun.

Then he focused on Eames again, and this time, Eames looked different. There was a lightness and a warmth to him, a softness to his edges.

Arthur leaned forward and kissed him, closing his eyes. He felt Eames's surprise for one long moment before Eames responded and kissed him back.

 _I'm not me right now,_ Arthur thought. _And the person I'm kissing isn't Eames._ They were both playing roles, characters that they were physically inhabiting. And Arthur's character enjoyed this. He loved the sun and the trees and the quiet nature of the park amongst the urban landscape. He loved holding hands and sharing kisses with this man.

They pulled apart. Arthur's eyes started to flutter open, and—

"Take it somewhere else, f-----s!" a man's voice yelled.

Eames flipped the homophobe off without so much as sparing him a glance.

Arthur sat back against the bench. He felt completely drained.

"Now, that's more like it," Eames said, breathless. "That is the kind of performance we'll need to give."

Arthur turned toward him. Eames wore a proud conspiratorial grin, but there was genuine respect in his eyes, too. Arthur had finally proven himself up to the challenge.

* * *

The next time they met, it was strictly business. No need to practice pretending to be in love.

All four of them were there, the entire team: Arthur, Eames, Vita, and Yusuf. They were gathered in a loose circle in the warehouse, clustered around a whiteboard that had Eames's characteristic scrawl all over it. He'd outlined the basic plan as it stood so far.

"So, I'm thinking we should only need two levels," Eames said. "I'll approach Virginia as Vita in the first level, in the ballroom, which Arthur will design." He tapped the whiteboard with the tip of his marker. "And then the second level will take place in the hotel, which Arthur will also design, where Virginia's own projection of Vita will confess her feelings. Yusuf will stay behind in the first level to give us the kick." The ballroom and the hotel were both easy locations that Arthur would have plenty of access to, and ample opportunity to study. They would also both be on Virginia's mind already.

"Will two levels be enough?" Yusuf asked.

"Yes, I think so," Eames said. "We're not performing another inception, quite. Not a true extraction, either. All we have to do is put the idea in Virginia's head that Vita's in love with her, and then see her own perception of how that would play out."

"All while dealing with a militarized subconscious," Arthur pointed out.

"Yes, darling, but that's part of why we're operating with a skeleton crew. The less we muck around in her head, the less unwanted attention we'll attract," Eames said. "And this time, none of us will have to worry about anyone bringing along a shade." He was not exactly chomping at the bit to work with Dom Cobb any time soon, that was for sure.

Arthur and Yusuf exchanged a glance. Vita wore a question in her eyes, but it was not a question that any of them wanted to answer.

"I bought us a hotel room that should have the exact same layout as Virginia's," Arthur said, to Eames. "It's located directly above her room, and the floorplan is the same. I should be able to make minor adjustments to the design, if needed, as soon as I see her room."

Eames nodded. "Yusuf, you can put yourself up in any room that you'd like. You won't be attending the ball, so Juno shouldn't have any reason to suspect you. You haven't worked with her before, have you?"

Yusuf shook his head. "My first real job was with the two of you and Cobb," he said.

Eames whistled. "Well, that's one way to break into the field."

"What was the previous job you worked with Eames, Vita?" Arthur asked.

Vita sat up in her chair. She looked at Eames, giving him a passing glance, then met Arthur's eyes. "I hired him to put my father in jail for murder," she said, point blank. "Eames got him to confess."

Eames watched as Arthur's composure slipped, and he fumbled his way through an unnecessary apology.

"Don't bother. I'm not sorry," Vita said. "It had to be done, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat." There was a weariness in her body, a hard line stretched taught. Eames could see it, but doubted that anyone else could. He remembered what that job had been like. The emotional hell it had dragged Vita through, from start to finish. But she had done it. And both of them had come out of that job with a bond between them that was stronger than money. When someone hires you to impersonate them in a dream, it's impossible to complete that job without some level of unshakeable trust. And now Vita had hired Eames to do it again.

The meeting dissolved, and one by one, they exited the warehouse, slipping away in the night.

As Eames walked away, he heard footsteps follow after him.

He knew it was Arthur without even turning to look at him.

"Are you free tomorrow evening?" Arthur asked.

"Depends on what we're doing," Eames said, tucking his hands in his pockets. The warm autumn had begun to give way to a brisk cold snap. Virginia's winter ball wasn't too far away, now.

"Dinner at 7 PM," Arthur said. "At the restaurant you hate." He grinned, and Eames could hear it in his voice.

Eames stopped walking and turned. "Alright," he said. "Don't be late."

There was a moment, then where they both just stared at each other, standing stiffly at the entrance to a dark alley, and Eames was deciding whether or not he should kiss Arthur, and he knew that Arthur was deciding whether or not he should kiss Eames, and both of them knew what the other was thinking, but neither of them were moving.

A car drove by, the headlights streaking over them, and the moment passed, and both of them were walking away, headed in opposite directions.

* * *

Arthur picked a classy, upscale restaurant that Eames could afford, but which undoubtedly offended his sensibilities. Predictably, Eames didn't quite dress for the date. He'd made an effort to clean himself up, and he wore nicer clothes than usual, but he still looked every bit the frumpy eccentric. Standing next to Arthur, it couldn't be more clear that the two of them were from completely different worlds.

They were seated at a small table for two. The table had a rose and a candle on it. Eames stared down at them, then back at Arthur, his eyebrow quirked.

"It has been a while since we've gone out, hasn't it, dear?" Arthur asked, in character. He reached across the table and grasped Eames's hand, smoothing Eames's skin with his thumb.

Arthur had decided that Eames had nice hands. He didn't mind holding them.

Eames caught on immediately. A visible change went over him, and any trace of sarcasm left his voice and demeanor in an instant. "Yes. And you picked a wonderful venue for our outing, darling. I especially love the portraits of the naked winged babies. Very classy."

Arthur smirked. He struggled to keep himself from laughing. "Careful, dear. We mustn't overdo it."

A man cleared his throat. "Can I get you gentlemen started with anything?" the waiter asked.

Arthur removed his hand from Eames's in a jolt. "Uh," he said, feeling his face flush red. The waiter kind of smiled awkwardly at him.

"Give us each a glass of your finest rosé," Eames said, recovering the situation.

The waiter nodded, then left.

"And you were doing so well," Eames said, shaking his head.

Arthur frowned. "This doesn't come easy for me, you know," he said.

"Oh, I know," Eames said. He stirred the ice around in his glass of water with his straw. He gazed at Arthur with a soft, open stare, like he was studying him.

Arthur sighed. He sat back in the booth, trying to recall back to him the character he'd been playing.

"What kinds of things do you typically talk about when you're on a date with someone?" Eames asked.

"I don't go on many dates," Arthur said.

Eames chuckled. "No, you wouldn't," he said. "But if you did, what would you even talk about? Not work, I take it? Unless you're in the habit of disclosing the fact that you're a criminal to all of your dates."

"No," Arthur said. Not that he had any hobbies outside of work.

"Well, let's start with the basics," Eames said. "Where did you grow up?"

"All over," Arthur said. "I was born into a military family, so we moved a lot."

The waiter returned with their wine. He asked for their orders, and Arthur opened his mouth to give his, then looked to Eames instead, and let him order for the both of them. Eames picked the special. Arthur realized that he did not remember what the special even was.

After the waiter left, Arthur leaned across the table and asked, "What's on special tonight?"

"You, the most detail-oriented, anal-retentive person I know, don't remember the special?" Eames said. "Arthur, I'm shocked."

"I have a lot on my mind right now," Arthur snapped. "So yes, that one detail might've slipped my attention. What's on special, Eames?"

Eames stared at him. He chuckled, then took a sip of his wine. "No bloody idea," he said. "I ordered it because I haven't even glanced at the menu."

Arthur started to sputter in indignation, but it turned into a laugh part of the way through. He shook his head.

"Think of it this way," Eames said. "Dinner will be a fun surprise. We have to keep you on your toes somehow, darling."

By the time the waiter came back with the food, Arthur had relaxed somewhat. He shifted, and his legs collided with Eames's legs under the table, but instead of moving his legs, Arthur let them tangle with Eames's, just letting himself get used to the contact.

They fought good-naturedly over who paid for the meal before just deciding to split the check, which Arthur had been sure was the pre-determined outcome. Then they left the restaurant and stepped out into the night.

This time, when Arthur turned and found Eames facing him, he didn't hesitate before he stepped forward and kissed him. He'd done it without even thinking about it. It just felt like the right action to do in that moment, as natural as breathing. Eames kissed him back, soft and steady and sure.

"I think you're ready," Eames whispered.

Arthur smiled, satisfied that he'd passed whatever test Eames had given him. There was maybe the tiniest part of him that was disappointed, but he didn't stop to examine it. Not now. Not when he had a job to do.

* * *

Clothes shopping was an incredibly bothersome, tedious process that Eames hated with every fiber of his being. One benefit to forging was that he never had to actually buy or try on any of the outfits that he wore. They all just magically fit his body however it happened to be shaped at the time.

Vita went with them to pick out their outfits for the ball. She offered advice, scathing opinions, and, most importantly, her credit card. They each needed a separate outfit for each day of the event, because it was passé to own only one good tux. They also needed to match, or course. Which was a feat made infinitely more difficult by their wildly varying tastes in clothing.

Eventually, they argued their way to a full week's worth of coordinating formal wear.

Then, the next thing Eames knew, he and Arthur were seated next to each other on a flight to England.

And this was going to be it. No more practicing. From now on, they were on stage.

Eames could tell that Arthur was unreasonably, unbearably nervous about it. He was more nervous than he'd been at any point during the inception job, and they hadn't even finished crossing the ocean yet.

"You're going to do fine," Eames murmured. His eyes were closed, his seat tipped back as far as it would go. His eyelids fluttered open, and he turned his head toward Arthur.

Arthur was looking at him. He crossed his arms and glanced out the window.

"See, you're thinking about it too much again," Eames said. "You're starting to worry about how you're going to inevitably fail to act in specific scenarios, and you're losing confidence in your character."

"And I'm sure that's never happened to you," Arthur said.

"It happens to me all the time," Eames said. "And every time, I tell myself to just stop thinking, and then I can fall back into it again. Like riding a bicycle."

He placed his hand palm-up on the armrest between them, catching Arthur's gaze expectantly.

Arthur let out a sigh. He dropped his arms, then reluctantly placed his hand in Eames's hand. His fingers were cold. Every time Eames had held them, they'd been cold. Eames pulled Arthur's hand onto his lap and put his other hand over it.

"You should try and get some rest, darling," Eames said. "I know you regularly like to work on very little sleep, but jetlag has never improved anyone's acting ability."

Arthur made a noncommittal noise, but didn't attempt to take his hand back. He looked out the window for a few minutes, then shifted in his seat, restless, for several more minutes. Finally, he settled down. He closed his eyes. And then, just like that, he was sleeping. It wasn't a true sleep; Eames had been around Arthur enough while he slept to be able to tell the difference, but it was better than staring out the window while his nerves tried their best to eat him alive.

Eames settled back into his seat, shutting his eyes. He dozed for the remainder of the flight. He woke abruptly when the airplane began its descent, and Arthur was still holding his hand, only their hands were in Arthur's lap, this time.

When Arthur woke, he let go of Eames, and in the absence of his hand, Eames's skin felt cold.

* * *

The hotel was an opulent, extravagant affair. The kind of lodging that was befitting of a fancy ball. Once again, Arthur was glad that he was staying here on Vita's dime. Even though he could afford to vacation in places like this, he could never bring himself to actually blow this kind of money on them. It always felt like a waste. He liked nice things, but not _this_ nice, and not enough to pay for them.

They checked in, then headed up to deposit their luggage in their room. They had a few hours before the first event of the ball, a lavish dinner and a dance.

Arthur held the keycard up to the door, then turned the handle and pushed it open. He flipped on the lights and stepped into the room. Then he stopped. For a long moment, he stared at it, coming to terms with the reality of the situation.

The room had only one bed. Of course it did. Virginia was alone; she had no need for more than one bed. And according to Vita, she wasn't the type to stay in a huge suite when it didn't suit her needs. Arthur and Eames's room mirrored Virginia's, so they had one bed, too.

There was a couch. Arthur eyed it with suspicion. He did not want to sleep on the couch, and suspected that Eames would not want to sleep on it, either.

"It's a king," Eames said, setting his suitcase on top of the bed. "There's plenty of room for two men to sleep in it. We'll hardly even feel each other's warmth." He unzipped his suitcase and popped it open. "Besides, we sleep next to each other all the time for work. This doesn't have to be any different."

Arthur sighed. He opened the closet door, then started unloading his own suitcase, transferring his clothing to a more suitable storage space.

A couple hours later, they were both dressed and ready for the party. They sat with Vita at the back of a limousine. She wore a slim, elegant dress, trim and beautiful in its simplicity. She seemed relaxed, staring pensively out the tinted windows.

The car pulled up outside of what appeared to be a castle. The grounds were well-lit, and a stream of well-dressed people were ascending the stairs to the entryway.

"Showtime," Eames whispered, winking.

Then the car door opened, and Eames stepped out, and Arthur followed after him, nerves seizing up along his entire body. He couldn't do this. The moment Juno saw him, she'd know that Arthur was faking, and she'd realize that Eames was here for another reason, and the job would be compromised.

Eames turned, and it was like he could read the thoughts right out of Arthur's mind. He grabbed Arthur's hand and pulled him close. Then he leaned down and kissed him. Arthur kissed back without thinking, closing his eyes, forgetting the presence of everyone else around them. He remembered all of their practice, remembered the character he was playing. His character was in his element, here, at this party.

When Eames pulled away, he was grinning, and Arthur was grinning back with the most lovesick look he could muster.

Vita had gone on ahead, but she was waiting for them at the top of the stairs, an amused look on her face. It was the first time they'd put on this performance for her.

They stepped through the large double doors and into the grand entrance hall. The whole interior was decked out in lights and holiday decorations, glittering to dazzling effect.

Virginia stood prominently at the entrance, personally greeting all of her guests, as was proper. Arthur recognized her immediately from the pictures he'd seen of her, taking in her light brown skin, her curled hair twisted up on top of her head. She had brown eyes that sparked with intelligence and warmth, and wore a soft blue dress with voluminous folds of fabric.

"Ginny," Vita greeted her.

Virginia stepped forward and threw her arms around Vita. After a moment, Vita's arm's came up around her, returning the hug. She seemed almost awkward about it, which didn't surprise Arthur. Vita had not struck him as the type of person who cared for hugs, although maybe she didn't mind _this_ hug so much.

There was a woman standing beside Virginia. Tall and slim, dressed in a suit, with straight black hair almost as short as Vita's, she watched the proceedings with a cautioned eye. Arthur recognized her from the photos, too, and his heart started pounding in his chest. The woman’s gaze shifted from Vita to the next people in line, and then it landed on Eames and froze.

Juno's eyes narrowed as she spotted Eames, clearly suspicious.

Arthur tried his best to ignore his nerves, and also ignore Juno, not sparing her another glance. He threw himself into his role instead. "Quite the party, isn't it, dear," he said to Eames with a smile, reaching an arm around Eames's waist and giving him a squeeze.

Eames looked back at him with a smile that almost betrayed his relief. "I knew you'd love it, darling. That tux suits you," he murmured.

"Ginny, this is my friend Eames," Vita said, introducing him.

Arthur and Eames turned away from each other to face Virginia, with Juno a dark shadow behind her.

"A pleasure," Eames said, taking Virginia's hand. "Any friend of Vita's is a friend of mine." He clasped an arm around Arthur, shooting another smile at him. "And this is Arthur, my boyfriend."

"It's lovely to meet you both," Virginia said. Her gaze lingered on them a little too long after the 'boyfriend' label. It wasn't overtly homophobic, but she was clearly not used to interacting with same-sex couples. Arthur could see why Vita was worried about how Virginia might react to her.

"I'm so glad you could make it!" Virginia said.

Juno stepped forward. "Wait, Eames, can I speak with you a moment?" she asked.

Eames's smile slipped. He put on a good show of looking a little embarrassed, like he was someone who'd happened to run into an old coworker while on a romantic getaway with his boyfriend. Arthur tried to look confused. His arm slipped away from Eames.

"You know him?" Virginia asked, frowning.

"We've met," Juno said.

"It's a small world," Vita remarked.

"Is there really a need for this, Juno," Eames asked, his arm tightening around Arthur.

"Is something the matter, dear?" Arthur asked softly, his eyes searching Eames's.

"No," Eames said. He gave a sigh. "I'll meet you in the next room, darling." he said. "An old friend of mine wants to catch up." He kissed Arthur, then. It was a brief kiss, but Arthur chased after it like a lovelorn puppy.

Then they let go of each other, and Eames stepped aside, and Juno stepped after him, and then they were muttering together in a corner of the room.

"Let's go on ahead," Vita said, to Arthur. "He'll catch up to us shortly."

They left Virginia standing there, a little confused, staring between her bodyguard and her best friend, before the next person in line stepped up, and she had to return her attention to performing her role as gracious host.

* * *

"You better not be here to do what I think you're doing," Juno said, glaring at Eames, her arms folded.

"And what would that be?" Eames asked, putting an air of frustration into his voice. The gambit here was that Eames was to appear mildly embarrassed for getting caught by a former coworker while attending a ball with his boyfriend.

"You're here to break into Virginia's mind before I've finished militarizing her subconscious," Juno said, flatly.

"I'm just here because I wanted to do something fun with my boyfriend," Eames said, holding up his hands.

"Oh? Then how do you know Vita?" Juno asked.

"We've worked together before," Eames said. "That job concerning her father. Nasty business. In the process, Vita and I got close." It was always good to stick to the truth as much as possible.

"I thought you didn't date your coworkers," Juno said, narrowing her eyes.

"I said we were _close_ , not that we dated," Eames said. "Vita's just a friend. I'm here with Arthur. Who, by the way, doesn't know about any of the dream business, so I'd really appreciate if you kept these details to yourself."

Juno regarded him with a stare that had made many powerful men quake in their boots. But Eames was not a powerful man.

"I still don't trust you," she said. "The last time I worked with you, that job taught me that nothing is ever what it seems with you. Enjoy the party, Eames, but know that I'm going to have my eye on you the whole time." She turned and walked back to stand at Virginia's side.

Eames quickly made his way into the next room, looking for Arthur and Vita. He found them standing in a corner. They were facing each other like they were having a conversation, but neither one of them was saying anything, like they'd already run out of topics to talk about. Eames rejoined them by wrapping an arm around Arthur, kissing the side of his cheek.

Arthur, to his credit, flinched almost imperceptibly at the sudden contact, managing a smile at Eames when he pulled away.

"How'd it go?" Arthur asked, quietly.

"About as expected," Eames said. "Juno suspects exactly what we're doing. We have three nights to really sell this, and hopefully by then, she'll have relaxed her guard, at least concerning me."

Arthur nodded, but looked unsure.

"You're doing great, by the way," Eames said. "Honestly." And he meant it. Arthur was by no means a brilliant actor, but so far, he had done nothing to compromise the job.

"Thanks," Arthur said.

Eames just hoped he'd be able to keep it up. For all of their practice, they'd never tried to keep the ruse going for longer than an hour or two, and this would be almost an entire week. But he didn't say that. For this to work, they had to have complete faith in each other's abilities. Complete trust in the other to let him do what he needed to do in order to keep up the illusion. There could be no indication of doubt from either of them.

* * *

As the night wore on, Arthur became increasingly aware that he and Eames were frequently an object of attention. They caught a lot of covert stares from other guests, all heterosexual couples who stared unabashed at the lone gay couple at the event. The more people looked, the more Arthur focused on Eames. Sometimes, Eames would whisper something to him that would startle a genuine laugh out of him, and Arthur would lean in close, and for a moment, he'd forget that this was a lie.

Soon, it was time for the first dance. Arthur looked forward to the dancing, because that was one thing he could approach from a standpoint of technical skill and not acting ability. They'd spent long hours practicing ballroom dancing with Vita, and Arthur had gotten quite good at it, memorizing the pattern of the steps, learning how to react to Eames's movements.

All of that practice, all leading up to this.

Eames held out a hand, and Arthur took it.

They swept across the ballroom floor, couples swirling around them as the music swelled. Arthur and Eames moved as one entity, anticipating each other with flawless precision. Arthur's entire focus was centered on this dance. He forgot about the ballroom, about Juno, about the job. There was only the music thrumming through him and the motion of his body, and his hand on Eames, and Eames's hands on him.

When the dance ended, both Arthur and Eames were out of breath, staring at each other.

Distantly, Arthur heard someone clapping. He turned, and it was Vita. She walked over to them.

"It looks like someone's been practicing," she said, smirking.

"We had a very good teacher," Eames said.

"Show me," Vita said. She held out her hand. Eames accepted her offer, and then the two of them were gliding into the crowd of dancers as Arthur watched from the sidelines. He didn't attempt to find another partner. This was a good excuse to take a moment to study the architecture of the building, but every time he tried to focus on the job he was actually here to do, he kept finding his gaze being drawn back towards Eames and Vita.

They were both very good. Vita was better, but not by much. She danced with ruthless precision that matched Eames's ruthless abandon, and together, they twirled their way toward a kind of equilibrium.

"Arthur, was it?" someone said.

Arthur looked behind him, and found himself face to face with Juno. "Uh, yeah, I'm Arthur," he said. "And you were...?"

"Juno," she said. She held out her hand, and Arthur took it to shake it, but as soon as he placed his hand in hers, she gripped his fingers and wouldn't let go. "Can I have the next dance?" she asked.

"Sure," Arthur said, his eyes roving all over her face. He felt his nerves coming back, and struggled to suppress them. The last thing he needed right now was to slip back into the comfort of his usual self.

"How did you meet Eames?" he asked, as she pulled him onto the dance floor.

"He won't tell you?" Juno asked.

Arthur shook his head. "Not the specifics," he said. He let Juno lead the dance.

"It was through work," Juno said. "We were never really got to know each other." She spun Arthur around. "How did _you_ meet Eames?" she asked.

Arthur stumbled a little, caught off guard. In trying to play up the curious boyfriend role, he risked treading into dangerous territory.

"We met at a bar in L.A.," Arthur said. "It wasn't very romantic," he admitted. They'd discussed their cover story in detail, ironing out the wrinkles. Eames had recommended keeping it simple and straightforward: it had been a bar hookup that had turned into something more. A common enough story.

The music picked up, and the pace of their dancing increased with it, blissfully ending the conversation.

When the dance ended, Juno let go of Arthur and stepped away, fading back into the shadows. Arthur looked after her, frowning slightly, unsure if he'd passed whatever test she'd given him.

"Hey," a familiar voice said.

Arthur felt a rush of relief go through him. "Hey," he said, turning.

Eames pulled him back onto the dance floor. "Are you okay?" he asked, looking concerned.

Arthur nodded.

"The night's almost over," Eames said. "We can leave after we finish this dance."

"Shouldn't we stay as long as we can?" Arthur asked. He'd been here for hours, and in all that time, he'd barely gotten any work done.

"No," Eames said. "We've done enough for today. You're exhausted."

Arthur tried to mutter a retort, but he knew that Eames was right. The longer he stayed past his limit, the more he risked jeopardizing the entire job.

They finished the dance. Arthur let himself lean into Eames for a long moment at the end, caving in to the pressures of his exhaustion, knowing without looking that Juno was watching them.

Then, after a quick word to Vita and Virginia, they excused themselves from the venue and returned to the hotel. It was a quiet trip back.

By the time they'd reentered their room, Arthur had forgotten that it contained only one bed. But as soon as Eames flicked on the lights, there it was, that expansive king-sized mattress, waiting for them in the sleazy low light.

Arthur did not have the energy to complain about it or object. He simply gathered an undershirt and some sweatpants out of the closet and carried them into the bathroom. He started up the shower. When he returned, Eames had changed out of his tuxedo and was rooting through his luggage, which had already started to explode all over half of the hotel room floor. Arthur sat down on the edge of the bed. He felt a weight sink onto the other side of the bed.

Arthur reached over and clicked off the lights, then he lifted the covers and crawled under them, lying as close to the edge of the bed as possible.

"We accomplished exactly what we needed to today, you know," Eames said.

Arthur grunted in response.

"Really. What we did today was build the foundation. You can't make a decent building without a solid foundation," Eames said.

"I think you should leave the architecture metaphors to the actual architects," Arthur mumbled into his pillow.

Eames chuckled, his voice heavy with sleep.

And that was the last thing Arthur remembered before he drifted into unconsciousness.

* * *

When Eames woke, there was a shaft of light slipping through the curtains and falling directly on his eyes. He squinted and turned onto his other side, and he found himself face to face with an asleep Arthur. For a long moment, Eames forgot what they were doing here, and his drowsy mind struggled to process what he was seeing, his heart pounding with uncertainty.

Then he remembered, and he found himself relaxing. He turned onto his back, shifting up a few inches on the pillow so the sun was no longer in his eyes.

He lay there and listened to Arthur's breathing for a few minutes. This time, he could tell that Arthur was really, truly asleep. That was good; he needed his sleep. Arthur tended to get grouchy and difficult to work with when he was running on low sleep, which was often. But the travel and the dancing and the acting must've rendered him genuinely knackered.

Eames didn't want to wake him. But he also didn't want to let him oversleep, which would almost certainly make him equally grouchy. So, he lay there in indecision, tapping his fingers on the mattress.

Then Arthur's phone alarm went off—of _course_ he'd set an alarm—and Arthur's eyes shot open. Eames pretended like he'd just woken up, too, blinking groggily at Arthur, trying to bury his face in his pillow.

"We should get going," Arthur said, already out of bed and digging through his closet.

Eames grunted. He sat up. Then he stumbled into the bathroom to take a quick shower.

Not that long after, both of them were dressed and seated in the hotel restaurant downstairs, eating breakfast.

"So, the plan is we arrive at the castle early, and spend an hour scoping out the premises," Arthur said. "I'd like to get a better view of the grounds during the day. We can pass it off as a romantic stroll if anyone catches us."

Virginia had a late lunch scheduled for the afternoon, which would be followed by more dancing. The air outside was brisk, and Eames doubted there would be many other people out wandering the gardens. He and Arthur bundled themselves up in nice coats—also new acquisitions at the behest of Vita's budget—and made their way back to the castle. It looked no less regal in the full light of the sun, although perhaps it cut a smaller shape against the grey-blue of the day sky.

As soon as they set foot on the grounds, they were "on" again. Though, really, it was safest to be acting starting from the moment they set foot outside of their hotel room, and ending only when they closed the door behind them again at night.

Arthur reached out, unprompted, and took Eames's hand in his. Neither of them had gloves on, so the physical contact was a welcome source of warmth. Eames had gotten to know Arthur's hands _very_ well, by this point. He didn't mind holding them. He'd never minded it. He'd had to have plenty more unsavory forms of contact with strangers that he loathed far more than Arthur. Not that he'd ever really loathed Arthur. Eames had been irritated by him, yes, and frustrated by him, also yes, but he'd never hated him, or even disliked him.

This gig was one of the better ones he'd taken on, honestly. The acting was hardly difficult, the risk to his own person minimal, and he actually liked all of the people he was working with.

They ambled at a leisurely pace through the gardens, hardly speaking to each other. Eames looked at Arthur more than he looked at the gardens, watching him work.

All in all, the gardens were not a substantial part of the plan for either layer of the dream. They were just background set dressing for the castle, specifically the ballroom. But Arthur liked to get everything perfectly right, and observing the gardens while it was still light out, with no pressure to perform for an audience, was an ideal time to conduct this particular reconnaissance mission. Eames was content to sit back and enjoy a little break from his own job.

He'd been carefully observing Virginia as much as he could without causing a stir, paying particularly close attention to all of her interactions with Vita. There was a certain shyness in Vita's manner when it concerned Virginia. It was so uncharacteristic of her, Eames found it somewhere between amusing and adorable. He thought he'd be able to imitate it quite plausibly, though it would still take quite a bit of care for him to introduce the idea to Virginia that Vita was interested in her without it coming across as widely out of character.

Arthur stopped walking, and Eames blinked away his thoughts, looking around them.

They stood inside a little hedge maze, the greenery no longer flowering. At the center of the maze, where the two of them stood, there was a water fountain with a large statue at the center of it, spewing water. Neither Arthur nor Eames were visible from the outside of the maze, but neither of them made a move to let go of each other's hands.

Eames opened his mouth, couldn't think of any words to say, and just closed it. His gaze returned to Arthur, whose own eyes were fixed on the statue, his mind seeming a million miles away.

"Did you hear that?" Arthur whispered.

Eames quirked his ears, looking over his shoulder.

As he turned, Arthur dropped his hand then reached up and grabbed Eames's face instead, pulling Eames toward him. Then Arthur kissed the question from Eames's lips.

Eames was nothing if not good at improvising. He kissed back as soon as his brain caught up to what was happening. The kiss went on longer than all of the others they'd shared previously, and it was deep enough, Eames almost lost himself in it. Almost. He was still aware enough to hear the footsteps on frost-crackled grass, then the short intake of breath that followed them.

They pulled apart, whirling around in apparent surprise.

Virginia stood there, staring at them, a blush prominent and red on her cheeks. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt," she said.

Eames coughed. "It's okay," he said. Arthur's cheeks were red, and it was clear that he wasn't faking his embarrassment.

"I didn't expect to run into anyone else out here," Virginia said. "The party isn't supposed to start for another half hour."

"I know, we're early," Arthur said. "Sorry."

"Don't worry. I get it," she said, smiling. "You just wanted some time to yourself."

"Yeah," Arthur said. His smile was relaxed, genuine. With each passing day, he was really coming into his own with this role. Eames was begrudgingly impressed.

They started walking, and Virginia fell in step beside them.

"How long have you been together?" she asked.

"A few months now," Arthur answered. They'd decided to pin the date to the day that Eames had first told Arthur about the job. It seemed cleaner that way, and the newness of the relationship might explain away any bumps in Arthur's acting or moments of awkwardness.

"You're a good friend of Vita's aren't you, Eames?" Virginia asked. "She's talked about you before. Said you helped her deal with her father getting charged with murder."

Eames was surprised, at that. He'd thought of Vita as a very good employer who he'd eagerly work with again, and perhaps maybe also someone he'd grab a drink with from time to time, when she was in town, but he hadn't thought he'd made so much of an impact on her that she'd mentioned him to the woman she was in love with before she'd even hired him for this job.

But then again, Vita struck him as the type of person who really struggled to open up to anyone. Eames supposed that he was one of the few people that she had opened up to, and only because it was a necessity of the job.

"She's certainly someone that I enjoy spending time with," Eames said. "I was glad to take her up on her offer to come along to your party."

"I think her offer was at least partially a selfish one," Virginia admitted. Eames bit back a chuckle. _Oh, you don't even know,_ he thought. Virginia continued, "Vita can be a bit awkward around social situations like this. I get the impression that she wanted a friend along for some moral support."

"Well, she has you," Arthur pointed out.

"Yeah, but I can't just be her friend right now. I have to be _everyone's_ friend. I love hosting, but it's also really, really exhausting."

Eames glanced around, searching for Juno. He doubted she'd let Virginia get this far out of her sight. "Where's your bodyguard?" he asked.

"Oh, Juno? I left her back inside the dining hall. I like her well enough, but having her hovering over me all the time gets on my nerves, you know?"

"Aren't you worried about your safety?" Eames asked.

Virginia shook her head. "Unlike Juno, I trust my guests. I don't think anyone at this party is the kind of person who'd try anything." She smiled at Eames and Arthur, and Eames felt a cold, slippery rush of guilt tremble through him. He returned her smile, but noticed that Arthur couldn't, his face going blank. He looked away. Eames reached out and gripped his wrist, giving it a brief, reassuring squeeze. Reminding him that everything was going to be okay.

"I should probably be getting back to her, though," Virginia said, guiltily. "I still need to help with some of the preparation, and I don't want her to worry about me."

"Good luck," Eames said. "We've been looking forward to lunch all morning. I know it's going to be a smashing success."

"Thanks," Virginia said. She gave them a wave, then started in the direction of the castle, winding her way up the path through the yard toward the great double doors.

For a long moment, Eames and Arthur both stood there silently, watching her retreating figure.

"Are we doing the right thing, here, Eames?" Arthur asked, his voice soft.

"You've never asked that question before on any of our other jobs," Eames said, surprised. He knew that Arthur had been involved with far more invasive extractions, stealing information that was much more sensitive than this, crafting dreams that were far more violating. "What's so different about this one?"

"I don't know," Arthur said. He looked a little lost. "I think all of this—this _acting_ is messing with my head," he admitted. "I don't know how you do it."

"Practice," Eames said simply. "Lots of practice." He'd gotten very good at separating himself from his characters, at distancing himself from any pain or pleasure that he caused others. This job was no different.

* * *

Arthur felt almost relieved when they reentered the building, faces pink from the cold. They still had a little time to kill before the luncheon started, so they took advantage of it to aimlessly wander the interior of the building. Arthur focused on cataloging every detail of the ballroom and the foyer, filing them away in his mind to be used later in reconstructing the place in the first layer of the dream. Eames covered for him while his focus on his acting lasped, though there were not enough people in the room for it to really matter.

It felt familiar and comfortable to be back in the role of the objective researcher conducting reconnaissance. Arthur leaned into it almost as a safety mechanism, using the research to escape his increasing sense of guilt for what they were planning to do to Virginia. He didn't know why this job was affecting him more than any of the others. Especially since Vita's goal wasn't remotely malicious. He would just need to follow Eames's lead and find a way to distance himself from the character he was playing. He needed to think about the money, and remember that this was just a job. He wasn't actually in love with Eames, and they weren't actually here to befriend Virginia, or even Vita for that matter.

A few minutes before the luncheon was scheduled to begin, Eames pulled him aside. "What's the matter with you?" he hissed.

"Nothing," Arthur said, leaning away from him.

"It's like you suddenly forgot everything you've learned in the past month and decided to undo all of our progress," Eames whispered, frustrated.

"What?" Arthur asked.

"You're falling out of character, Arthur," Eames said. "I can see you closing yourself off, and it won't be long before others start to see it, too."

Arthur was silent. He hadn't even noticed he'd been doing anything differently.

"Instead of dwelling on the fact that you're betraying Virginia, how about you try thinking about the many ways that you're helping her, instead?" Eames said. "If the job goes well, then Vita can make her move, and they'll be happy and in love together, and she never needs to know the truth about us."

"But it'll be based on a lie," Arthur said.

"Many true and genuine things are based on lies, Arthur," Eames said, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Sometimes, the journey isn't as important as the end result."

Arthur met his eyes. He held Eames's gaze for a long moment, feeling the pressure of Eames's hands on his shoulders, listening to his breath. Arthur closed his eyes and leaned forward, and he didn't think about how familiar Eames's lips felt, or how he didn't really mind kissing him. He just wanted Eames to know that he could do this, that he wasn't already falling apart on the second day of the job. If nothing else, he could focus on besting Eames's perception of his abilities.

They were late to the luncheon. They slid into two chairs that Vita had saved for them, and she looked at them curiously, but said nothing.

* * *

Eames was relieved to see that after their conversation in the hall, Arthur's acting improved immensely. Arthur smiled at Eames with a soft look in his eyes, and he didn't flinch away from physical intimacy, or appear closed off. Perhaps he was sacrificing his focus on the architecture in order to keep his acting sharp, but in Eames's opinion, it was definitely worth it.

Once again, the afternoon concluded with a dance.

Arthur danced three times with Eames, each in quick succession. By the second dance, Arthur almost seemed to be genuinely having fun, moving with a lightness and a playfulness to his steps.

Eames couldn't help but match him in spirit and energy. It was a pleasant diversion. But he also needed to work. So, after the third dance, he stepped away from Arthur, then went over to Virginia and held out his hand.

She accepted his offer.

Virginia was more skilled even than Vita, though she was far less smug about it. She adjusted to Eames's skill level without judgement. Eames wondered, then, if this was going to be a problem. Would his dancing give him away in the dream? Surely Virginia would notice that something was up if "Vita" danced like Eames instead of like herself.

After the dance was over, he thanked Virginia, then went over to Vita, who was observing from the opposite side of the room as Juno.

"We have a problem," he whispered.

"What? What is it?" she asked, instantly on alert. Her eyes found Juno's shape from across the room.

"Tomorrow, or the day after, you need to twist your ankle," Eames said.

Vita's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Why?" she asked.

"Because we'll need a plausible excuse for why my dancing is not as good as yours in the dream," Eames said.

Vita pursed her lips tight. She gave a single, brusque nod, acknowledging the necessity of it.

"You really love her, don't you?" Eames said. He couldn't think of a single person in his own life that he would go to such lengths for.

"More than anyone," Vita said, softly.

 _And if Virginia doesn't understand that, then it's her loss,_ Eames thought.

* * *

They went out for dinner after the dance. The restaurant was one of Virginia's recommendations, and the food was predictably excellent, with a matching price tag. They kept up their act throughout the meal in case any of the other guests were present, although Arthur didn't see any faces he recognized.

After dinner, they returned to their hotel room. Arthur got out the PASIV, and started hooking himself in. He glanced up, expectantly, at Eames.

Eames just sighed and offered his arm.

Then Arthur was back outside of the castle, the outdoor gardens lush around them, the building exterior looming over him regal and inviting. He turned, and Vita stood beside him, dressed in the outfit she'd chosen for the penultimate night of the gala.

Vita was, of course, actually Eames. Though, even knowing that, Arthur did a double-take upon seeing him wearing her face.

Eames had her mannerisms down exactly. The expression on his face looked indistinguishable from the expression that Vita wore most of the time, and even the way he carried himself matched Vita's poise.

Arthur no longer felt the same ease and comfort he'd grown accustomed to feeling in Eames's presence, because Eames's presence did not read as Eames's presence.

"Let's see how you did, then," Eames said, starting toward the castle.

Right away, Arthur knew that his work was not good enough. The exterior felt vividly imagined, rich with detail and veracity, but the interior of the building was a poor shadow of the real castle.

Eames clicked his tongue. "This won't do, Arthur," he said.

"I know," Arthur said, frustrated. "It's just—it's hard to do both at the same time. Do the research while also keeping up the act. But I still have two days to perfect it, and I think I'm getting better."

Vita's face dissolved, and suddenly Eames was standing there in her place. Arthur felt himself relax, if only by degree.

Then they were in the hotel room, sitting up in bed. Outside, the late afternoon light set over the cityscape, washing everything orange-gold.

Eames stood up. "Well, that was certainly no fairytale castle. It's a lot of work to do in just two days, Arthur," he said. "And if you can't do it, then this will all fall apart."

Arthur got up off the bed. "Your Vita is very good, by the way," he said. "I didn't appreciate it before, but having gotten to know her better over the past couple days, I can see how well you understand her. What you do—forging—it's more difficult than I ever gave it credit for. I can barely manage basic acting, let alone anything more than that." He looked out the window, taking in the cut of the skyline, the softness of the lighting.

To his surprise, Eames didn't take the moment to gloat or brag. He didn't say _thank you_ , either, but Arthur had known that that would be asking too much.

Eames opened his mouth—probably to say another criticism—and then he frowned, walking toward the window. He placed his hands on the sill and gazed out of it. Then he glanced back at Arthur.

There was a loud, drawn out noise in the background, pulsing with a rhythm.

Eames let out a chuckle, leaning back against the window. "Arthur, darling, I knew you still had it in you," he said. "We're still dreaming, aren't we?"

Arthur's eyes fluttered open. The first thing he became aware of was the screech of the fire alarm overhead. Beside him, he felt Eames sit up and fumble with his totem.

As the alarm blared, Arthur couldn't hold back a satisfied smirk. For all of his dream castle's lackings, at least he was confident that his dream version of the hotel room would more than suffice. He hadn't spent many waking hours in this room, but he'd made them count.

They left the room to investigate the cause for the fire alarm, running into Virginia and Juno on their way down the stairs. The hotel staff arrived to apologize to everyone, explaining that the alarm had been triggered by a small fire in the laundry room.

Arthur and Eames headed back upstairs to their room. Arthur felt Juno's eyes on them as they split off from her and Virginia the floor below theirs. He slid one arm around Eames as they walked, leaning into him. It took him a moment to remember to drop his arm after stepping back into the room. His thoughts were occupied, toying with a sudden idea.

As they prepared for bed, the idea expanded, becoming bigger and bigger in Arthur's mind, and finally he couldn't stand it anymore. He clicked on the bedside lamp, then crawled out of bed to fetch his laptop. He slid back under the covers and opened the laptop, tapping away at the keys.

Beside him, Eames grumbled exaggeratedly. He sat up, his hair already mused from the five minutes or so it spent on his pillow. "Do you _have_ to work in bed, darling?" he asked.

"Technically, we do most of our work in bed," Arthur pointed out.

Eames grunted, ceding him the point. "What are you working on?" he asked, scooting closer.

"Just an idea I had after you said my castle was ' _certainly no fairytale castle_ ,'" Arthur said. He pulled up the plan he'd drawn up of the castle layout, then typed something into the search bar on his internet browser and juxtaposed the two images together. He turned toward Eames, gauging his reaction.

"Huh," Eames said. He let out a slow whistle. "I'm surprised at you, Arthur," he said. "This is quite a bit of a last-minute change for you. Normally you're a resolute planner."

 _Who has ‘no imagination’_ now _?_ Arthur thought. But what he said was: "Do you think it will work?"

Eames watched the revised plan begin to take shape on Arthur's screen. "Yeah," he said. "I think it might even work better than the original plan."

Arthur glanced at him again, grinning. Eames looked intrigued, yet also sleepy, his eyelids drooping as he watched Arthur call up a video for further reference.

Eventually, Arthur reached over and flicked off the lamp, working with only the light from his screen. Eames was still awake, and still watching, but Arthur didn't want to keep him up if he didn't have to. They could finalize everything tomorrow evening. He was surprised to find that he didn't mind Eames's presence in the bed at all, and didn't even mind that Eames was watching as he conducted his research. It helped, of course, that Eames stayed blissfully silent and didn't offer any snide comments.

After Arthur had been at it for a few hours, he heard a soft snore coming from beside him. He turned, and he saw that Eames had finally succumbed to his exhaustion and had fallen asleep, still propped up on his pillows beside Arthur. His body was curled towards Arthur, exuding warmth, and Arthur stared at him for perhaps five solid minutes, hands resting unmoving on the keyboard, without realizing that he was doing it. He blinked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, then turned back toward his work.

Finally, after he was feeling tentatively confident about the changes he'd made to the design, he hooked himself up to the PASIV again, taking advantage of the slowed down time to put in more hours of work.

By the time he'd finished, it had grown very late indeed. He leaned down to set the computer on the floor, then passed out almost instantly.

* * *

Eames reached over and woke Arthur with a gentle shake. Arthur scowled and grunted something indistinct. Eames shook him a little harder. "There's coffee waiting for you on the table, darling," Eames said.

Arthur sat up, his face already fixed in a grumpy expression. He reached for his phone, and presumably switched his alarm off. Eames had made a calculated move to wake Arthur up a few minutes before his alarm went off. No one liked waking up to an alarm.

Arthur looked up from the phone to the coffee, then at Eames. He blinked. "You didn't have to do this," he said, getting out of bed. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Truthfully?" Eames said. "Because I know how you get when you haven't had enough sleep, and I'd rather you take out your grumpiness on someone other than the boyfriend that you supposedly love very much."

Seemingly against his will, Arthur's mouth twitched up into a smile. He picked up the coffee and took a swig of it, and by the look on his face, he hadn't expected it to be good. But Eames knew how Arthur liked his coffee—black, high quality, no-nonsense, caffeinated, _boring_ —and Eames had woken up early enough to go buy a coffee from the actual cafe next door instead of trying to struggle with the coffeemaker in their hotel room and the subpar roast that they had been provided.

"Thank you," Arthur said, sincerely.

Eames shrugged. "How did it go last night?" he asked.

The satisfied look on Arthur's face told him everything he needed to know. "I'll give Yusuf and Vita the full rundown of the new plan tonight," he said. "You and Yusuf can get a tour. We'll give the whole thing a dry run. If it doesn't work out, we can go back to plan A."

"But first, breakfast," Eames said.

"Right. Breakfast."

They got dressed quickly and efficiently. Arthur didn't even take his clothes into the bathroom to change this time. When Eames turned back around, Arthur was adjusting his tie in the mirror beside the closet, his hair still mused from bed. He didn't grumble about the hour, or complain about Eames's look or habits, and Eames felt relieved.

"I figure I should probably pretend to be sleep-deprived, too," Eames said. "They'll make their own assumptions about what we were up to last night."

Arthur snorted. He'd taken a comb to his hair, and instantly he looked perfectly put together. "I'll make an effort to be on my best behavior," he said.

Eames wished that Arthur had figured out his new plan one of the _other_ nights, when the event that Virginia's gala had in store for them that day had been something other than a breakfast bright and early in the morning. But so far, Arthur had kept to his word. He didn't snark unnecessarily at Eames, or grumble and act standoffish.

He dozed a little on the ride over to the castle, though, his head on Eames's shoulder.

Once again, they sat next to Vita for the meal. She took one look at them—at Arthur, specifically—and asked, "Late night?"

Eames looked at Arthur. "There have been a few changes to our plan for tomorrow," he said to Vita. "Are you free tonight?"

"As long as it's later in the evening," she said. "Ginny invited me to go to dinner with her."

"Are you sure that you even need our help?" Eames teased.

Vita didn't dignify that with an answer. "Juno will also be there," she said, taking a sip of juice.

"Oof," Eames said.

He noticed that Arthur's eyelids were drooping, his stare fixed on the same inch of tablecloth that his gaze had been centered on for the past ten minutes. Eames nudged him. "Hey," he said softly, "Stay with us, darling."

"Sorry," Arthur muttered, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

Eames gave Arthur's thigh a pat.

After breakfast, they all stood up to socialize. There was no dancing planned for today, just breakfast, schmoozing, and some light music. Standing would probably help Arthur stay awake, but dancing would've been better.

"What's wrong with you?" Juno asked, bluntly.

Arthur startled. Eames hadn't even noticed her approach.

"It's none of your business," Arthur growled.

 _Ah, there it was,_ Eames thought. _That trademark morning grumpiness_. He wrapped an arm around Arthur, hoping that Arthur wouldn't automatically throw off the physical contact in his frustration. He didn't.

"We didn't get as much sleep last night as we should have," Eames explained, smiling lazily at Juno. He hoped she caught the hint that his smile was insinuating, and stopped asking prying questions.

Juno looked like she was going to say something else, but then she just shook her head and walked away.

"Sorry," Arthur said. Eames realized that his arm was still wrapped around Arthur, and he lowered it back to his side.

"You're doing fine," Eames said. "She bought it right away."

He watched as Arthur's eyes roamed around the room. It was his research look, Eames realized. Even now, Arthur was trying to work.

"There is such a thing as taking a break, you know," Eames said.

Arthur looked at him with a frown. He quickly softened it into an affectionate one, though. "Today's the last day," he said. "There will be time for a break after the job is done."

Eames wondered what Arthur planned to do after finishing the job. If he'd go back to L.A., or perhaps head off to a completely different corner of the world. There was a pang in Eames's heart, and he realized that he was going to miss him. He'd seen a lot of Arthur recently, during the course of this job. After it was over, he'd have to get used to being alone again.

* * *

Between the end of Virginia's scheduled events for the day and their upcoming meeting with Yusuf and Vita, Arthur returned to the hotel for a nap. Eames came back with him, having nothing better to do, and also lacking an excuse for going sightseeing around town without his boyfriend.

Arthur changed out of his nice clothes, then crawled under the covers and was out almost instantly. He was barely aware of Eames getting into the bed beside him.

When he woke, the sun had already dipped below the horizon, and Eames was sitting up in bed beside him watching some movie on television with the audio turned way down. Arthur took a long moment to attempt to identify the film. He couldn't. Judging by the generic conventions, it appeared to be a romantic comedy. As someone who did not make a habit of watching romantic comedies, Arthur was unsurprised that he had never seen this one before.

"Is this the part where they have a teary breakup?" Arthur asked.

Eames chuckled, turning towards him. "No, you just missed that part," he said. "This is the part where they confess their undying love for each other and kiss in the rain."

Arthur sat up. "How can you even follow what's going on if the sound is off?" he asked.

"I didn't want it to wake you," Eames said. "Also, it's more fun this way. He pointed at the screen. _She's_ in love with _him_ , but she already agreed to marry his brother. I don't know what's, specifically, keeping her attached to him, but I think it has something to do with the fact that she was in love with the brother when they were younger, but then he left before anything could happen, and he met another woman, and in the meantime, she went for what was second-best, but now the other woman is out of the picture, and her feelings for the brother are reciprocated." He explained, as if this was all immediately plain and evident.

"I'm impressed that you got that just out of their nonverbal acting skills, but wouldn't it be more fun if you knew any of the characters' names?" Arthur asked.

On screen, the woman was speaking very emotionally to a man. They were outside, and a light rain was falling around them, drenching their clothes tastefully around their bodies. And—yep, there it was. Their lips were locked together. Arthur could almost hear the swell of the music that undoubtedly accompanied the scene.

"Also, don't we have a very important meeting to go to?" Arthur asked, his eyes drawn to the film as much as he told himself he couldn't care less how it ended.

"Our meeting's at 8:30. The movie ends at 8:00," Eames said.

There was only about seven minutes left of the film. After the credits rolled, Arthur got out of bed. He changed into his semi-nice clothes, unwilling to be seen in public wearing anything less.

They exited their room and walked upstairs, quickly making their way over to Vita's room. Arthur rapped quietly at the door to let her know that they were there, and Yusuf opened the door immediately, ushering them in.

Vita was across the room from them, standing at the window.

"So, what is this about last minute changes to the plan?" she asked, turning.

Arthur and Eames both started to speak at once. Eames gave Arthur a look, then went quiet, letting him do the speaking.

After taking a breath, Arthur opened his mouth and launched into an explanation.

He talked for a long time, explaining everything succinctly, but without compromising any of the details.

When he was finished, he looked to Vita, and she gave a contemplative nod. "It could work," she said. "Virginia has always had a certain fondness for fairytales."

"It might even reinforce the second layer of the dream even better than our initial idea," Eames added. Arthur noted, with relief, that Eames did not mention that part of the motivation for the change had been Arthur's failure to properly recreate the castle in a dream.

"I'll still have to see it," Yusuf said. "Especially since I'll be defending the three of you on the first layer while you're asleep."

Arthur had anticipated that. He got out the PASIV device and started setting it up. It would be the first time that Eames would see the final design, too. He had been talking up Arthur's idea without having actually seen it in action himself. But this time, Arthur was confident that he had done good work.

He showed it to them.

Yusuf was satisfied. Successfully reassured of his own safety in the revised plan.

And as soon as Arthur unveiled the castle he'd worked on, and the revamped garden that surrounded it, Eames turned toward him with a look of genuine awe on his face, and said, "Darling, this is incredible." He grabbed Arthur's arms and almost made a move to kiss him, clearly out of habit, then seemed to realize where they were, and stopped.

Arthur just smirked proudly. He'd been motivated by a desire to complete the job, yes, but more than anything else, imagining Eames's reaction to his work had kept him going through the night.

"Do you regret doubting me now?" Arthur asked.

Eames looked at him. "Arthur, I've never once doubted you," he said.

Something about the honest sincerity of the remark completely blindsided Arthur. He couldn't think of anything to say in response that wouldn't leave him blushing. So he just said nothing, letting the dreamscape around them speak for itself.

* * *

They woke up. All three of them checked their totems.

Vita regarded them, her attention mostly on Eames and Yusuf. "So?" she asked.

"It's going to work," Eames said, with confidence.

They went through a dry run of the whole plan. Then did it again, then again. After the third time, even Yusuf had been completely appeased. Eames had a long conversation with Vita over the costuming for the dream, which Arthur gradually took over.

Eventually, there was nothing left to practice. They'd run out of things to prepare. Nothing left to do besides wait until tomorrow, when they would be doing it for real.

Yusuf left first, slipping out of the room and walking down the hallway toward his own room. Eames and Arthur waited a full ten minutes before they left, not wanting to risk Juno catching the four of them together.

They slipped out cautiously, both on high alert. They'd almost made it to the elevator when the door beside Virginia's opened, and Juno stepped out. Eames watched the slow turn of her body as she swept her eyes down both sides of the hallway. There was nowhere for him and Arthur to go. Nowhere for them to hide.

Then there was a pair of lips against Eames's, and a pair of hands slamming him against the wall. Eames caught on instantaneously, kissing Arthur back with all of the fervor he could muster on such short notice.

All of the kisses they'd practiced before had been chaste ones, kisses fit for the public eye. This was not one of those. This was a _dirty_ kiss, full of teeth and lip and tongue. Arthur pressed forward, grinding his body into Eames, and Eames pushed into him.

The elevator dinged, announcing its presence, and Eames and Arthur moved inside of it, still kissing. This time, Eames was the one pressing Arthur into the wall. The back of Arthur's hand clumsily hit the button.

They ground into each other, and it was impossible for either of them to deny that they were both hard. Eames felt Arthur's erection against his own, just four layers of cloth separating them.

The doors slid closed, but Arthur kept kissing him. "For the cameras," he growled into Eames's mouth, his voice rough. It was a wise precaution. Eames could barely think, he was so turned on.

Arthur didn't kiss like a straight man. He really was a better actor than Eames had thought.

The elevator opened, and they stumbled out of it, still kissing, but mostly walking. They made it to their room, and Eames fumbled with the key card, his hands shaking. Arthur kissed him again, and they fell backwards into the room.

* * *

As soon as the door clicked behind them, Arthur let go of him.

They looked at each other, still breathing hard, and both of them started grinning like mad fools. Eames laughed, leaning against the counter, and Arthur leaned next to him and laughed, too.

"Brilliant, Arthur," Eames said, his voice still a little wrecked. "That was some quick thinking on your part."

"Do you think we sold it?" Arthur asked, his voice equally wrecked.

"Oh, I think we sold it," Eames said, sweeping his eyes down Arthur's body, then back up to his face. Eames hadn't actually seen Juno's reaction, but he thought it was safe to say that he and Arthur had both done a fantastic job of looking like the only thing on their minds was fucking each other senseless.

And even if Juno _was_ suspicious, the security cameras in the elevator would bear them out, should she attempt to review them.

"I'm going to go take a shower," Eames said, finally taking his eyes off of Arthur.

He walked toward the haphazard pile of clothing that radiated out from his luggage. He picked a few items up off of the floor, then stepped into the bathroom and shut the door.

As soon as the water kicked on and reached a comfortable temperature, Eames stepped under it with his hand already on his dick. He bit back a moan of pleasure, even though he thought it likely that Arthur knew exactly what he was doing right now. It had been too long since his last orgasm, and after grinding against Arthur's dick with Arthur's tongue in his mouth, he was already halfway there.

Normally, Eames tried not to think about people that he knew weren't into him while he masturbated. But it was very, very difficult not to think about Arthur after the encounter they'd just had.

He came quickly and gracelessly, already forgetting the lurid imagery his mind had conjured up to get him there. Then he finished his shower, toweled off, changed into his sleep clothes, brushed his teeth, then walked out of the bathroom and tumbled right into bed. He fell asleep before he had the chance to exchange another word with Arthur. The last thing he remembered was the sound of the shower kicking on.

* * *

Arthur thought there was a very high probability that Eames had just finished jerking off in this very shower. Knowing that fact did not make it any easier for him to will away his own erection. For a good ten minutes, he tried to ignore it, washing his hair, and then the rest of him.

But the fact of the matter was, he was well and truly horny, and it was really something he should take care of before climbing into bed with someone he wasn’t fucking.

So he wrapped his fingers around his cock and closed his eyes and tried to summon his usual fantasy, which involved a gorgeous woman—

Failed step one.

No matter what Arthur tried to picture, his mind kept going back to Eames. Eames's mouth, Eames's hands, Eames's _cock_. He pictured himself grinding against it until he came in his pants, whispering a curse. When he opened his eyes, his dick was spent, his fingertips had started to turn into prunes, and he felt completely boneless, leaning against the side of the shower for support.

When he finally pulled himself together, he got dressed and finished preparing for bed.

He left the bathroom feeling exhausted. Thankfully, Eames was already asleep, the lights in the room shut off. Arthur climbed into bed in the full dark, knowing every square inch of this room well enough to navigate it double-blind if he'd had to.

He had no energy left to think, and as soon as he was under the covers, he let sleep gratefully claim him.

* * *

Eames woke up feeling unusually good, and at first, he thought he'd gotten laid. He glanced over at Arthur's sleeping form beside him, and then the previous night came back to him. But at the same time, he also remembered what day it was, and the realization that today was _the_ day claimed precedence over all of his other thoughts.

Arthur woke while Eames was putting on his pants, and Arthur's eyes were sleepily focused on Eames at about crotch level for a solid fifteen seconds before his waking brain seemingly caught up with him, and he immediately looked away.

They were both quiet as they dressed and prepared for the penultimate day of Virginia's gala. The dream heist was planned for that evening after dinner. Eames itched to finish the job and get it all over with. But before that could happen, he needed to smile and dance and act cordial, and stay as far on Juno's good side as he possibly could.

Arthur acted somehow both closer to and more distanced from Eames while they made their way to the castle. It was like he felt comfortable around Eames, yet still felt a need to hold him at arm's length. As soon as they stepped onto the grounds, however, that distance fell away, and Arthur was right there at Eames's side, in his personal space.

"We've got this," Arthur breathed. He kissed Eames quietly, then headed towards the door.

The day unfolded with almost alarming perfection.

Juno hardly spared them extra attention, her focus split evenly among all of the guests. Virginia was, as ever, the perfect host, mingling with everyone. But Vita was even quieter than usual, standing off to the side.

Eames and Arthur casually made their way over to her, masking their concern.

"Is everything okay?" Eames asked.

Vita nodded.

"You better not be having second thoughts," Eames warned.

She regarded him. "I'm not," she said.

The music picked up, suddenly, heralding the beginning of the first dance of the day. Vita held her hand out, and Eames looked down at it, and suddenly he remembered the conversation he'd had with her the day before yesterday.

He took her hand. They moved onto the dance floor.

She waited until a particularly difficult moment in the dance to do it, timing it so precisely, Eames pinpointed exactly what was going to happen before it did.

Vita stumbled, her foot catching under her, and Eames caught her before she fell, hissing out a curse in solidarity.

Everyone turned around to stare at them in shock.

"It's just a twisted ankle, folks," Vita said, irritated. She leaned on Eames as he walked her back to the sidelines. "Don't ever tell me I won't do anything for love," she said in Eames's ear, her voice tight.

"I would never say that," Eames said softly.

He sat out the next dance in solidarity with Vita. But then Arthur took his hand, and Eames let him drag him out from the shadows once again.

"You actually genuinely enjoy this, don't you?" Eames realized, belatedly.

Arthur's hands were firm around Eames's hands and body, the feel of him warm and familiar. They'd gotten good at this.

"Never figured you for a dancer," Eames murmured, when Arthur didn't respond. Arthur spun him around, and then, for a moment, they locked eyes.

"Why not?" Arthur asked.

"You've always acted like you're allergic to fun," Eames said. They switched places, with Eames leading this time. "Maybe, after tonight, I'll take you out to do some _real_ dancing."

Arthur's eyebrow lifted, responding to Eames's taunt. "How about we focus on one thing at a time," Arthur said.

The dance came to a close. Eames was holding Arthur in his arms, bearing all of his weight. If Eames were to let go, Arthur would fall, but Eames would not let go, and Arthur knew this and trusted him completely. They stayed like that for a moment too long. Then Arthur straightened, and Eames's hands fell away from him.

* * *

Weirdly enough, Arthur wasn't nervous as the remaining minutes ticked down, and they neared the hour of the heist. He spent his remaining time casually observing the building and making minute adjustments in his mind, while Eames hung around him and casually offered tactile support, keeping up their illusion. Finally, on the very last day, Arthur managed to fulfill both of his roles at the same time.

They didn't talk to Juno. She was hardly present at all, actually. She hung around Virginia, but at a distance. As Vita had predicted, Virginia had grown tired with her bodyguard.

"Tonight's a go," Vita said, walking over to Arthur and Eames. "Just as I thought she would, Virginia invited me over. And Juno will not be around."

Eames clinked his glass against Arthur's. Arthur's heartbeat picked up, the familiar rush of a job in progress coming back to him.

A few hours later, Arthur was still feeling that adrenaline.

He and Eames stood outside of Virginia's door, waiting.

The door opened. They rushed in quietly.

Virginia lay stretched out on a bed that looked exactly like Arthur and Eames's bed. As promised, the rest of her room looked just like theirs, too. Only the painting over the bed was different. Arthur did a quick, in-depth survey of the place, taking in all of the little details, especially the decorative quirks that were Virginia's doing, such as the phone charger plugged into the outlet above an empty suitcase. He swept open the closet, taking in a sight that was equally orderly and disorderly, Virginia's clothes all put away, but in contained disarray.

Yusuf and Vita were preparing the PASIV while Arthur completed his sweep of the place. Eames was standing in the corner of the room, seemingly lost in thought.

"Ready?" Arthur asked.

Eames looked at him. "Whenever you are, darling," he said.

Arthur reached out, catching his hand. He squeezed it once, then turned it over, and took the needle from Yusuf. He hooked Eames in, then himself.

Vita leaned over Virginia, holding Virginia's slim wrist in her fingers with a look of unguarded tenderness that Arthur had never seen in her before. She inserted the IV, then almost reached to brush Virginia's hair from her forehead, but paused before she made contact.

As the sedative took effect and Arthur's vision dimmed, the sight of Vita tending to Virginia was the last thing he saw. 

* * *

Eames gazed up at the castle looming over him. It was more grand, even, than he'd remembered. Bigger, somehow. Arthur had filled out all of the remaining details, crafting a building that felt almost like a living work of art while still retaining the presence of the original.

Arthur stood at Eames's side. He was staring at Eames, waiting for him. "We don't have much time," Arthur warned.

Eames nodded. He strode forward and pushed the doors open. As soon as he did, the eyes of every projection in the room were on him. Or, rather, their eyes were on Vita. She wore a suit that was a meld of her actual style of dress and a more fantastical look. The color and cut of it alluded to one character in particular.

As Vita, Eames strode forward. He made his way through the crowd towards Virginia. Presumably, Arthur had entered the room after him, and was taking up a position around the perimeter. Eames didn't look back to check. No, his eyes were only for Virginia.

Sure enough, her subconscious had taken the hint. She wore a long pink dress and a delicate crown. As Eames approached, she turned, slowly, and there was a look of wonder in her eyes.

"Ginny," Eames started.

"Vita," Virginia breathed.

"Could I have this dance?" Eames asked.

Virginia nodded, her eyes moving over his face. Her hand was slender and warm in his. Right on cue, the music started, and Eames smiled, appreciating Arthur's subliminal touch. It was "Once Upon a Dream," or rather Tchaikovsky's "[Grande valse villageoise](https://youtu.be/erp8TxP51TQ?t=34)." Eames twirled Virginia around, taking in the swirl of costumes around them, the color and shape of the stylized architecture. Arthur had created a masterpiece.

"You look beautiful tonight, Ginny," Eames murmured.

"So do you," Virginia said.

Eames stumbled a little in the dance, and her face took on shades of worry.

"I'm sorry, it's—it's my ankle," Eames said, recovering.

"You shouldn't be dancing on it," Virginia said, almost reluctant.

She tried to let go of Eames, but he kept the dance going.

"I couldn't forgive myself if I gave up my last opportunity to dance with you," Eames said, his voice soft. "Ginny, I—"

A gunshot rang out.

Immediately, Eames covered Virginia and forced her to go low, protecting her. _It's too soon!_ he thought, looking around for the gunman.

Ah, yes, there he was. Or rather, there _she_ was. The gunwoman paced past the front door, her rifle sweeping over the crowd until it pointed up in the balcony. Someone from the balcony fired a shot down at her, and Eames inwardly grinned as Arthur's aim flew true.

"We need to get you out of here, Ginny," Eames said. "We'll be safer in the gardens."

"The gardens?" she asked.

"We can lose them in the maze," Eames muttered.

With Virginia's hand in his, he leaned around the corner, scanning the room to check their exit path. It looked clear. He started forward, then immediately pulled back, ducking behind a pillar. Another gunwoman walked past, her eyes sweeping over their hiding place. She kept walking.

Eames and Virginia slipped past her. Just as they exited the room, she turned, and started firing her gun.

"Run!" Eames urged Virginia.

They legged it through the castle grounds toward the hedge maze. Eames heard more gunshots, and hoped they were Arthur's and not the projection's. No bullets touched them.

Eames ushered Virginia into the entrance of the maze before him, then looked over his shoulder. He could see Arthur facing down two figures in sharp black dresses. Eames gave him an unseen nod of confidence, then entered the maze after Virginia.

Arthur had made several modifications to the hedge maze. The walls were much taller, and instead of perfectly manicured hedges, they were covered in thorns. Unlike the labyrinth they'd used for the inception job, this was a true maze, with diverging paths, dead ends, and only one true route to the center.

Eames and Virginia ran through it, Eames following the map he'd memorized, leading Virginia through each correct turn. He could only hope that Arthur had managed to make his way into the maze and start sealing the path behind them. He'd drawn up the design of the maze so that a few small shifts in the walls would change the route, preventing the projections from following them into the center of the maze.

Arthur and Vita had both argued that the hedge maze would be enough of an obstacle to prevent the projections from reaching them in time. Perhaps if Juno had finished her work of militarizing Virginia's subconscious, it would not have been enough, but theoretically, it should keep them out, at least this first time. Eames hoped that they were right.

Soon enough, he rounded the final corner, and emerged into the heart of the maze.

Arthur had kept the fountain from the actual castle in the design. The flowing water shimmered in the soft dusk light overhead, an object of serenity in an otherwise hectic afternoon.

And, sitting in front of the fountain was an old-fashioned spinning wheel.

Virginia stopped walking when she saw it. She looked back at Eames, at Vita in Prince Phillip's clothes, then glanced again at the spinning wheel.

 _She'll know how this story is going to go_ , Arthur had said, when he'd first pitched the change.

Virginia stepped closer to it, circling it without quite yet making contact.

 _We'll let her mind fill in the details on its own. She'll make the connection. The idea will come from her_.

Virginia's hand reached out, the pink fabric on her arm glittering. She touched the tip of the spindle, and let out a gasp as a bright drop of red welled up from her skin.

Eames rushed over to her, catching her as she began to fall.

As Vita, he held her in his arms, and she looked up at him and opened her mouth as if she was going to say something, then fell limp, her eyes fluttering closed.

Eames laid Virginia down on the grass, then got to his feet. When he turned around, Arthur and Yusuf had emerged from the maze, and were standing with three chairs beside the fountain. Yusuf held the PASIV in his hands.

Eames gently picked up Virginia and placed her in one of the chairs. Then he took a seat in the chair beside her. Arthur sat beside him. One by one, they all hooked themselves in. Eames prepared Virginia's IV first.

He felt the familiar rush of the sedative, and then the maze and the garden faded into darkness.

* * *

As the sun set over the hotel, Virginia woke with a gasp. She sat up in her bed, and, touching her fingers to her lips, looked up at Vita, who had been leaning over her.

Arthur glanced away from the screen to exchange a triumphant glance with Eames.

The two of them sat in the bunker room that Arthur had added to the hotel. It was small, windowless, doorless, and impenetrable. It had a large computer screen that was hooked up to a hidden security camera, speakers, and an off button.

"We did it," Arthur said. "Virginia generated her own projection of Vita." Not only would the projection not overstep the boundaries that Vita had set for the job; as a projection herself, she'd be safe from the militarized projections that were undoubtedly attempting to hunt down the intruders right at that very moment.

Arthur's attention returned to the screen.

"Vita, I—" Virginia started.

"I love you, Ginny," the projection of Vita said. There was something bare and raw in her voice that left Arthur feeling guilty, suddenly, for being present for it, even knowing that she wasn't real.

Arthur leaned forward in his chair, his eyes fixed on the image onscreen. This was it. This was the moment they had worked so hard to be able to witness.

Virginia didn't seem to know what to think. Her face was a war-torn field of emotions, shifting between surprise and disbelief and curiosity and awe.

"I have always loved you," Vita said. "I think you've known that, deep down." She reached over and caressed Virginia's cheek. Virginia leaned into her touch for half a second, then twisted away. "Do you hate me for it?" Vita asked, softly.

"No," Virginia whispered.

"But you don't love me back, do you?" Vita murmured.

Virginia said nothing. Her eyes were wandering over Vita's face, lingering on her eyes, on her lips.

Vita took Virginia's face in her hands again, and this time, Virginia let her. Vita shifted on the bed, moving closer, and then she was leaning over, and her lips were on Virginia's lips, and Virginia's arms were slowly coming up around her, and after a moment that was an eternity of moments, Virginia kissed her back.

Arthur let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He stood up, then hit the off button, and the screen and the speakers went dead, leaving him and Eames alone in the room, cut off from Virginia entirely. "That's it, then," he said. He laughed, leaning against the wall.

Eames stood up and walked over, holding out his hand. Arthur took it automatically. Eames squeezed it, then let go. He turned, leaning against the wall beside Arthur.

Knowing that it was done, Arthur felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He slid down to the floor, stretching his legs out in front of him. After a moment, Eames slid down to sit next to him.

"Vita's going to be so happy," Arthur said.

"It's not a done deal, you know," Eames said. "Just because Virginia kissed her in a dream doesn't mean that she'll be as open to the idea in real life."

"But she let her try it, dear," Arthur said. "And that's something."

The term of endearment slipped out accidentally. He'd gotten so used to exchanging _dear_ s and _darling_ s with Eames, it had almost become second nature. But he supposed there was only one more day of that left, now. Then the job would be fully over, and the ruse would be up, and they'd go their separate ways.

But not yet. It wasn't over yet.

"And that's something," Eames repeated. "It means that she's not outright disgusted or offended, at least."

"Mmm." Arthur tipped his head back, feeling the solid metal of the wall behind him.

"And now we just sit here and wait until Yusuf gives us the kick," Eames said. He turned to look at Arthur, wearing a lazy grin. "Darling, I do wish you'd thought to give us something else to do while we waited."

"It shouldn't be long now," Arthur said, staring at him with a smile of his own. "I'm sure we could come up with _something_ to do."

As the first echoes of "Non, je ne regrette rien" sounded in their ears, Arthur leaned over as Eames did, and they kissed right there on the floor of the bunker, sealed away from everything else in the world.

* * *

Water rushed in Eames's ears. He thrashed his arms and took a gasping breath, sitting up out of the water. He sat in the fountain in the dream garden of the first level of the dream. Beside him, Arthur was equally wet and equally awake, his eyes wide.

Eames climbed out of the water and immediately made his way over to Virginia. He—or rather Vita—needed to be the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes, no matter how briefly she was awake before this layer of the dream, too, collapsed.

He positioned himself over her just as her eyelids started to flutter. She looked up at him, blinked, and then it was over.

When Eames woke up again, he was seated on Virginia's couch. Arthur was waking up beside him, and in the other chair, he saw Yusuf sitting up.

Wordlessly, they each checked their totems, then gathered the PASIV and slipped out of the room, Vita keeping a careful watch in the hallway to make sure that the coast was clear. It was.

As soon as they entered Vita's room, she turned toward them and asked, "So?"

"She kissed you back," Arthur said. "The projection of you kissed her, and she kissed you back."

Vita let out a breath. She leaned against the table. "Tell me everything," she said. "I want to know exactly how it went, what she said, what you saw, _everything_."

They told her.

"I think you should make a move," Eames said, afterward. "Even if in the waking world, she's not ready for it or isn't interested, I don't think your love for her will lose you her friendship." Of that, he was sure.

Vita nodded, looking contemplative. "I'll tell her tomorrow," she said. "If her reaction is in line with your intel, then I'll pay you for the job, and you'll leave Virginia's party even richer men than you were when you arrived."

"Well, don't you all think this is cause for celebration?" Eames asked, standing up.

"What do you have in mind?" Vita asked, amused.

Eames glanced at Arthur. He grinned. "I did promise a certain someone I'd take him dancing," he said.

Arthur's eyes flashed with something akin to excitement, and Eames's grin widened.

* * *

As soon as the door opened and the sounds and lights and smells of the establishment struck him, Arthur felt suddenly apprehensive. For some reason, he'd agreed to be taken somewhere very, very far out of his comfort zone.

Eames grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the building after him. Vita brought up the rear, looking quite relaxed.

Yusuf had elected not to join them. He'd said something about gay clubs not really being his style.

Arthur took one look at the dance floor, then turned to Eames and said, "I'll need to have at least a few drinks in me before I'll set one single foot out there."

The music was very, very loud, the lights low and bright at the same time. If this were Arthur at any other point of his life, he'd surely have the beginnings of a headache by now, his discomfort manifesting in a physical form, but tonight, the loudness and the brashness of it seemed to thrum beneath his skin like a pulse.

"First round's on me," Vita said, gesturing to the bartender.

When Arthur was about halfway through his first drink, a woman slid into the empty seat on the other side of Vita. She had medium length hair, lightly curled, and her lips were painted red. "Hey," the woman said. "You're awfully handsome to be sitting here drinking alone."

"I'm just here with friends tonight," Vita said, tipping back her drink. "But I appreciate the thought, gorgeous."

The woman pursed her lips. "Well, if you change your mind, I'll be here," she said. She stood up, then walked into the crowd and disappeared.

"You only have eyes for Virginia right now, eh?" Eames asked.

Vita smiled. "I can appreciate a little fun now and then, but I've come too far to think of anyone else until I've at least told her how I feel."

"Have you ever been interested in men?" Arthur asked, curious.

Vita shook her head. "Only women. Always," she said. She turned over her empty glass in her hands.

"But you've been keeping it quiet," Arthur surmised.

"When you're rich, you're visible," Vita said. "I know what I am, and I'm proud of it, but there are people out there who could make my life difficult for me if they'd like, and I'm not sure yet if I'm willing to give them that power."

"Would you hide your relationship with Virginia?" Arthur asked.

"If that's what she wanted," Vita said. "I'd willingly out myself if she wanted to go public, and I'd be with her in secret if she wanted to keep it out of the public eye. Whatever she needs me to be, I'll be it."

Arthur understood her reluctance. The constant public scrutiny he underwent whenever he was with Eames was exhausting. It was nice to be able to just exist in a space like this one without having to worry about that. Maybe _that_ was why he wasn't as uncomfortable here as he'd thought he'd be. While he was here, he didn't feel like he was being forced to perform for some audience.

He felt movement at his side, and turned only to face a stranger sitting on the stool beside him. The man wore a look of well-trimmed ruggedness, and Arthur realized, almost reluctantly, that he was good-looking. "Can I buy you a drink?" the man asked.

"Sorry, I'm taken," Arthur said. He turned to smile at Eames, and Eames wrapped a warm arm around him in response, sending a clear message to the stranger and anyone else who was potentially interested. Arthur let himself lean into it, gazing softly out over the room.

Then Arthur stood up. He started walking toward the crowd of undulating bodies. He turned, glancing back at Eames, arched his eyebrow and asked, "Can I have this dance?"

Eames chuckled. He took Arthur's outstretched hand, then pulled them both onto a dance floor that was far more crowded and sweaty than the one at the castle. Immediately, they were pressed up against each other, jostled by the moving bodies of the people around them on all sides.

"I don't know what I'm doing," Arthur confessed, speaking loudly over the music into Eames's ear.

"You're a quick learner. I'm confident you'll figure it out," Eames said, smirking.

As soon as Eames started moving, Arthur gave up any attempt at rational thought, and just lost himself in the moment. He moved according to what felt right. It all felt like they were headed somewhere that threatened to leave Arthur dizzy and breathless, but he was powerless to stop it. And he was starting to think he didn't want to.

He could have this, if he wanted.

Somewhere in the process of pretending, Arthur had forgotten how to stop acting. He'd let in this character that loved Eames, and now he couldn't let him out.

They moved against each other, fluid and responsive, malleable. Then Arthur felt Eames grow still and rigid, his eyes fixed on some point over Arthur's shoulder.

In slow motion, Arthur turned. He saw Juno, striding across the room toward them with purpose.

Eames backed off of the dance floor, and Arthur followed after. His whole body felt empty and spent, like the moment after waking up from a long dream.

Juno met them about when they made it back to Vita's side. She wore a look of cold anger inscribed on her face. "Fuck you!" she spat, the remark directed at Vita. "And fuck you, too," she said to Eames.

"Arthur, maybe you should—" Eames started, trying even now to keep up the illusion that Arthur had nothing to do with this.

"No. He stays," Juno said. "He can find out how you've been fucking him over this whole time, too." Her eyes flicked to Arthur. They narrowed. "Unless you've been fucking each other over this whole time."

"Yes, there's been a lot of fucking each other," Eames said.

Arthur choked. Eames shot him a grin, unduly proud of himself for the joke.

Juno rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. I know that you don't fuck people that you work with, Eames. This whole thing has just been one long con job, and I'm a fool for falling for it."

Hearing it referred to as a con job cut deep. Arthur knew that's exactly what it was, that Juno hadn't been the only fool here, but he'd been lying to himself all evening. Perhaps even longer than an evening. But this wasn't the time to dwell on that.

Juno turned toward Vita. "You got me this job, Vita, and now you've lost me my career," she said, bitter. "How am I going to explain to my client that not only did someone get pass all of the defenses that I had been installing in her mind, but the person that did it was her own best friend, who was the person who'd encouraged her to protect herself in the first place?"

Vita flinched imperceptibly, picking up her drink and knocking it back.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Eames said.

"Bullshit," Juno spat. "I just finished asking Virginia how her evening went, and you know what she said to me? She said it was lovely, that she'd had a nice conversation with Vita, but must've been more tired than she thought, because she'd fallen asleep. I'm not stupid, Eames."

"Well, Vita did hire the best of the best," Eames said. "Anyone less, and Virginia's mind would've been perfectly secure."

"I only did it because I loved her," Vita said, looking at Juno. "I never meant to hurt her."

"Invading someone's privacy is a shit way of showing someone that you love them," Juno said. "And this is already a shitty line of work, where shitty rich assholes hire you to steal from other shitty rich assholes."

"If you don't like it, then get a different job," Eames said.

Juno's glare was piercing. "What do you think I've been trying to do here? There aren't very many ways to go legitimate with our line of work. I've been keeping my hands clean, Eames," she said. "But this was my first non-criminal job, and I fucked it up. And now I'm going to have to tell my client that I failed."

"Do you really have to tell her?" Eames asked. "We weren't stealing anything, or even planting ideas in her head. We were just—"

"You were just conspiring to retrieve information from her that you were too cowardly to get an honest way," Juno interrupted. "And do you think I _want_ to tell her that I failed? I want this even less than you do, believe me. But I have an obligation to that woman, and—"

"I'll tell her myself," Vita interrupted. "Tomorrow." She closed her eyes. For a woman that had looked so content and triumphant at the beginning of the night, the conversation with Juno had taken all of that out of her.

 _I guess we_ all _failed_ , Arthur thought. Juno had failed to protect Virginia's mind against extraction, and Arthur, Eames, and Vita had failed to get away with it. As soon as Virginia found out, it was all going to go up in smoke for the lot of them.

Vita ordered another drink. She took a long sip of it as they all stood in silence.

Suddenly, the loudness and brightness of the club were too much to bear. The sense of celebration had gone sour. Arthur felt too drunk for this, yet at the same time, not drunk enough.

"And two more for my friends," Vita told the bartender. She glanced at Juno. "Maybe make that three," she said.

Juno wordlessly took a seat at Vita's other side.

Arthur returned to his barstool, accepting the drink with a nod. He turned toward Eames, and almost reached toward him, looking for some form of physical reassurance, before he remembered that Juno had seen through them, which meant that the con was over, and they didn't have to pretend anymore.

"Hey, darling, are you okay?" Eames was staring at him, concerned.

"I'm fine," Arthur said, his voice clipped. He looked away.

* * *

The elevator shuddered past several floors, then slowed to a stop. The doors opened, and Eames moved to get out of it, then realized that Arthur wasn't following him. He turned around. Arthur was staring at the floor, leaning against the wall.

Eames reached out and grabbed Arthur by the arm, yanking him out of the elevator. Eames shot Vita a smile before the doors slid closed, then it was just him and Arthur standing in the hallway.

"You're going to regret this in the morning, darling," Eames said.

Arthur grunted.

They started walking toward their room. Eames kept his hand on Arthur's arm, holding him steady. He hadn't realized how much the alcohol had been affecting Arthur. He'd hidden his inebriation well, sipping drink after drink quietly.

Eames fished out his keycard to get them through the door. His hand only shook a little. Normally, he'd make a quip about how he could hold his liquor better than Arthur, but he held his tongue. The last thing Arthur needed right now was someone making fun of him, even if it was only out of affection.

Eames hadn't thought that failing this job would hit Arthur this hard. But then, Arthur had always been a consummate perfectionist. Perhaps he'd never failed a job before.

"Y'know, it could be a lot worse," Eames said. "We're probably not going to get paid, but all of this was on Vita's ticket, anyway, so it's not like we've _lost_ any money."

"I don't care about the job," Arthur said sullenly. He took a seat on the edge of the bed.

Eames gave him a look. But Arthur was too drunk to appreciate it, his eyes unfocused. Eames sighed. "Come on, let's get you undressed," he said.

Arthur startled a little, at that. He stood up and brushed past Eames, stepping briefly into the closet, then walking into the bathroom. He closed the door hard behind him.

Eames undressed and dressed quietly, then climbed into bed and waited. When Arthur emerged from the bathroom, Eames pretended to be asleep. Sober Arthur would've never seen past it. Drunk Arthur paused before crawling into the bed, and Eames couldn't tell what was going through his mind, but he felt Arthur's eyes on him for a long minute before the other light clicked off, and Arthur's weight pressed onto the bed beside him.

The morning arrived before Eames was ready for it, streaming in through the curtains.

He fought past his mild headache and glanced at the time. Then he pulled back the covers and sat up, reaching over to gently wake Arthur.

"Arthur, darling, we overslept," he said.

Arthur groaned. He turned over, burying his face in his pillow.

"I know, but the job's not over until it's over," Eames said. "We still have an obligation to show up. Virginia will be offended if we skive off the last day of her party." He got out of bed and started getting dressed, slipping into the final outfit he'd planned.

When he finished, he turned around, and saw that Arthur had not moved.

"Arthur, come on," Eames said. "I can't do this without you."

"Why not?" Arthur asked, his voice raspy.

"Because we're a team," Eames said simply. "If we succeed, we succeed together. If we fail, we fail together. And besides, Virginia throws a damn good party, so if I'm not going to get paid, I'm at least going to go out there and enjoy myself." He glanced at his reflection in the mirror, fixing his hair. "It would be a shame to miss your opportunity to wear that outfit you were so proud of, wouldn't it?"

He watched, in the mirror, as the Arthur-shaped lump on the bed shifted. Arthur sat up, pressing his fingers to his forehead.

"Hungover?" Eames asked.

Arthur just grunted in response.

"Me too," Eames lied. He knew the little throbbing twinge in his head was nothing like what Arthur was feeling right now, but perhaps lending Arthur some empathy right now would dull his pain even just a little.

Eames twiddled his thumbs while Arthur got ready, fixing them both cups of cheap hotel coffee. Normally, Eames preferred tea himself, but he could really use the extra boost of caffeine this morning.

"Why are you doing this?" Arthur asked, after Eames wordlessly handed him a cup.

"Doing what?" Eames asked.

"Being nice to me," Arthur said. "It's too late for me to jeopardize the job now, so you don't have to worry about that."

Eames blinked at him. "I like you, Arthur," he said, simply. "I know we haven't always got along, but when we put our minds to it, we work very well together, and I do enjoy your presence." He didn't say that he was going to miss Arthur after the job was over, or that he was worried that they'd part on cold terms and ruin the tentative, fragile friendship between them that had gradually been developing over the past couple months. _I don't want to lose you_ , he thought.

Without replying, Arthur headed for the door. He paused before he opened it. "Thanks," he said. "I enjoy your presence, too." Then he turned the handle and stepped through the doorway.

Eames glanced back at the room one last time before he left it. When he next returned to this place, it would be to gather all of his things before heading to the airport. He and Arthur would catch the same plane, then they would arrive in the U.S. and exit the airport and leave in two different directions. Maybe they'd see each other again when they next worked a job together, but it wouldn't be _this_ job, and it wouldn't be like this.

The coffee tasted especially bitter on Eames's tongue. He drank it anyway.

* * *

It was difficult for Arthur to remember that he couldn't just casually touch Eames like he'd gotten used to doing. For something that had been so unnatural and uncomfortable for him to become accustomed to doing, it was almost harder for him to unlearn it than it had been for him to pick up the habit in the first place.

No one at the gala seemed to notice that anything was amiss between them. The other guests had finally gotten used to seeing Arthur and Eames, the sole gay couple at the event, and had finally accepted them at face value. Their cover was sound, not that they had any real need for it anymore.

Only Virginia saw through it. She approached Arthur quietly, after Eames left to peruse the refreshments. "Is everything okay?" she asked.

"Yes," Arthur said shortly, "Why do you ask?"

"Because you're my guest, and I want you to have a good time," she said. "But you don't look like you're having fun."

Arthur glanced in Eames's direction. "I'm just sad that it's ending. That's all," he said. "You've put on a lovely party, and it's been nicer than I ever thought it would be, and it's—" he cut himself off.

"It's like waking up from a dream," Virginia murmured, absently.

Arthur stared at her. He nodded. "Yeah. It's like that," he said.

"There will be others," Virginia said.

"Not for me," Arthur said, his voice half-broken.

By then, Eames was heading back over to him, and Virginia stepped away from Arthur with a parting smile. She said something, briefly, to Eames, then wandered off to socialize with the other guests.

The music started up again, striking a rhythm that wormed its way under Arthur's skin, twitching in his limbs, animating a great, shambling desire within him to get out there and dance. But he and Eames weren't doing that anymore. So Arthur stood at the sidelines, his arms stiff at his sides, and watched the sweep of dresses and bodies across the ballroom, and started doing the hard, delicate work of locking his own desires back into that tiny compartment that lay deep within himself.

He watched, as if from a great distance, as Vita approached Virginia. She held out her hand. Virginia stared down at it, then back up at Vita, and a particular look crossed her eyes, one that Arthur recognized from the dream.

They danced. Vita's movements were tender. Restrained, but sure. She no longer favored her ankle, and it was plainly evident to Arthur how in sync she was with this woman she loved; this woman she'd betrayed. His heart broke for her a hundred different ways.

He should've never agreed to do this job.

The dance ended. Vita let go of Virginia's hand. Gave her a small bow. Then walked away. Virginia reached out, her lips forming words, but Vita did not stop walking and did not acknowledge her. For a moment, Virginia looked crushed. Then, just like that, she'd composed herself again, and was once again the compassionate host, attending to her guests instead of herself.

Arthur watched dance after dance, counting down the seconds to the end of the party.

Finally, Virginia announced that this next dance was going to be the final one. Her eyes went to Arthur as she said it, and he glanced around, frowning, unsure why she had singled him out. His gaze landed on Eames, who was standing beside him with his hand held out.

"Once more, with feeling?" Eames asked. He grinned, and Arthur couldn't help but grin back, feeling something warm and tight coil up inside of him.

Arthur danced like it was a goodbye, knowing that this was a moment that would never happen again.

For the first time, he wasn't putting on a show. He didn't pretend to be anything or anyone he wasn't. He just did what felt right. Eames matched him move for move, reading him like an open book with its spine cracked and split.

Before this job, Arthur had never truly appreciated Eames's ability to lay people bare like that. Exposing all of them with little more than a glance and a handful of stolen minutes. But then Eames had gone and done it to him. And Arthur had watched him do it—had been _taught_ to do it himself—and he'd _still_ fallen for it.

 _God, I'm a fucking fool_ , Arthur thought.

He felt Eames's skin on his skin, and his heart fluttered, and the music lifted his feet, and then, just like that, the song was coming to a close, and the dance was over, and Eames's hands were falling away.

They lingered after the party had officially ended. Vita made a reappearance, and once Virginia had fulfilled her obligations as the host, Vita approached her and drew her aside. Before they exited the room, Vita turned and locked eyes with Eames. He gave her a nod. Then, seemingly heartened, she turned back toward Virginia.

Arthur, Eames, and Juno all followed them surreptitiously. Juno made no move to stop Arthur and Eames. She had not acknowledged them all night.

They ended up watching from the balcony. It was too far away for them to hear Vita and Virginia's conversation, but Eames had a fairly good read on the situation as always, and laid it out to Arthur in a tragic play-by-play as Vita spoke, and Virginia shook her head, before finally, open tears were streaming down Virginia's cheeks, and Vita made an aborted attempt to reach for her.

“Vita really should just let herself cry. It would help make her point a lot better if she just did what she wants to do and cried,” Eames said.

Arthur looked down at them. He could barely make out Vita’s expression, but he could tell by the tight line of her mouth and the stoicism of her gaze that Eames was right, and the face she was putting on for Virginia right now was a mask to conceal the emotional turmoil she was experiencing underneath.

“You and Vita are a lot alike,” Eames said, turning toward Arthur. “If you’d just let yourself feel what you’re feeling without trying to hide or suppress it, you’d be a lot happier.”

“Crying because it’ll make someone feel sorry for you is emotional manipulation,” Arthur said flatly.

“No,” Eames said. “Crying when your heart is broken, smiling when you’re in love, that’s emotional _honesty_ , Arthur.”

Arthur looked back at Vita, and to his slowly dawning horror, he realized that Eames was right. The more Vita put on a show of stoicism, the more distressed Virginia became. Virginia couldn’t see the wild strength of the love that had motivated Vita to hire a team of criminals and plan an entire heist because she loved Virginia too much to risk losing her friendship because of it. Virginia couldn’t see the utter devastation that Vita was feeling as she watched her worst fear unfold into reality right before her very eyes. Virginia couldn’t see it because Vita was too afraid to show her.

Before he’d realized he was doing it, Arthur had started walking toward them.

“What are you doing?” Eames hissed.

“Improvising,” Arthur muttered.

* * *

Eames watched as, to his horror, Arthur approached Virginia and Vita from the side and said, “Hi, Ms. Colman, you barely know me, but I’m one of the people that Vita hired to go into your head.”

Virginia and Vita both whirled around to face him. Vita’s mouth was open in shock. _What on earth are you doing?_ The look in her eyes asked.

"I just thought you should know that Vita really, truly loves you," Arthur said. "I've seen it myself. She loves you so much that she put so much money and thought into this, into circumventing the security that she herself insisted on giving you, because she’s utterly terrified of losing you."

Eames glanced from Virginia to Vita, gauging their reactions.

Arthur continued: "But Vita also refused to enter your dreams herself at any point because she didn’t want to betray your trust, and she insisted on boundaries that no member of the team was allowed to cross. I get that you feel betrayed, but all she wanted to know was if it was okay for her to love you.”

Arthur took a breath. Neither of them said anything to interrupt him. “And I don’t know if this would make any of it better, but if Vita agrees to it, we could hook you up to the PASIV and you could enter her mind and see what it’s like. Just, please don’t throw something away that I know means a lot to both of you.”

For a very long moment, there was silence. Arthur had made a very stupid but very brave play, and Eames was anxious to see how it would pan out.

Then Vita spoke: "Yes. I'd do that. I'd do _anything_ , Ginny," she whispered.

All eyes were on Virginia. Her cheeks glistened with tears, but no fresh ones had fallen since Arthur had begun speaking. She stared at Arthur, then nodded, once, brusquely. "Okay," she said. "Show me."

Together, they made their way back to Vita's room at the hotel. Juno didn't accompany them.

* * *

As soon as Eames had the opportunity to get a word in with Arthur, he leaned in and whispered, "Arthur, I could kiss you."

Arthur arched an eyebrow, and if Eames wasn't mistaken, it almost seemed like Arthur was challenging him to actually follow through on the threat.

"If this goes wrong, then I told you so, but if it plays out how I think it will, then you're bloody brilliant," Eames whispered.

"I'm glad I have your vote of confidence," Arthur said, almost sincere.

As soon as Vita unlocked her door and invited them all into her room, Eames could see the evidence of her emotional distress from the previous night strewn all over the room. It wasn't so obvious as bottles or rubbish or anything quite like that; but Vita was a very well-put-together woman, and her room was a disorganized mess of chaos, with clothing spilling out of her bags, and various items scattered all over the furniture as if she lived there and was not merely occupying the space.

He hoped that Virginia could see it, too. It would greatly help Vita's case if she could.

"So, how do we do this?" Virginia asked.

Arthur brought out the PASIV. He placed it on the bed and opened it. Virginia stared down at it, her eyes wide and suspicious.

"Do you want one of us to accompany you for your first time?" Eames asked. "Vita's only been under herself once."

"Really?" Arthur asked.

"I don't react well to the sedative," Vita said.

From Eames's memory of the event, that was an understatement. Vita's allergic reaction had put her in the hospital, and it had ensured that she could never be an active participant in any extraction jobs ever again.

"Vita, you don't have to—" Virginia started.

"No, I do," Vita said. "I'll be okay, Ginny."

Eames rubbed his chin. "We should bring Yusuf in for this. He might know an alternative sedative that would be less risky to use. Is he still in town, or did he leave last night?"

"He stayed," Vita said.

"Ah, of course." Eames nodded. "He wanted to get paid." He glanced from Vita to Arthur. "No one told him, huh?"

Vita closed her eyes. Arthur gazed out the window.

"Well, one of us could go under with Virginia, first," Eames said. "Show her the ropes. Protect her from the dangers of her own subconscious."

"I'll take Arthur," Virginia said.

Eames glanced at Arthur. Arthur looked surprised that she'd picked him instead of Eames. But he nodded, then reached for the PASIV. He showed Virginia how to hook herself up by demonstrating the steps on his own arm. Eames moved in to assist Virginia after the sedative began to take effect on Arthur. Then he stepped back beside Vita and waited.

* * *

"How did we get here?" Arthur asked.

He and Virginia stood in the grand ballroom of the fairytale castle. Guests, projections of Arthur's mind, had already begun dancing around them.

"What?" Virginia asked, confused. "Didn't we just..." she trailed off, her memory unable to retrieve the information.

"That's one way to realize that you're dreaming," Arthur said. "Ask yourself that question."

" _This_ is a dream?" Virginia asked. She looked around herself, taking in the entire scene. "You know, I suppose that makes sense," she said. "But it all just seems so..."

"Familiar?" Arthur filled in.

"Yeah."

"That's because you've been here before," Arthur said. "In a dream. I designed it. I was, as we call it, the architect."

" _You_ designed all of this?" Virginia asked, awed. "It's so beautiful. And detailed!" She ran her hand along the wall, taking in the texture of the place.

Arthur smiled. "Thank you. I'm not actually very good at it, though. I was Eames's third choice." His smile faded.

"What was Eames's job?" she asked.

"He's a forger," Arthur answered. "He plays other people in a dream. In your dream, he was Vita, at least for the first half. The Vita in the hotel was a projection of your own mind." He started walking, heading toward the entrance to the gardens.

"Did you meet him on the job?"

"Yes. Not this one, though. It was many years ago."

"But your relationship is new," Virginia guessed.

Arthur stopped walking. "No, it's not," he said. He looked away. "It's not _real_."

"What?" she asked.

"We were faking. Juno knew Eames, so he thought if he came as my boyfriend and pretended this was just a romantic getaway, it would throw her off the scent. And it did. It worked until last night, when she found out that you'd fallen asleep while Vita was over." Arthur said it all flatly and plainly, laying out the situation as dispassionately as he could.

They stepped through the door to the outside, setting foot on the castle grounds.

"But you want it to be real," Virginia surmised.

"No," Arthur said, automatically. "I—" He couldn't say it. Couldn't voice his denial out loud.

"I've seen how you look at him, you know," she said. "Today, when you were standing there alone, you looked so sad and lonely. I told him to dance with you. And he did it. And you were smiling again as soon as he asked."

"He just did it so that it wouldn't give us away to you."

"But wasn't the job already lost by that point?" she asked. "He only did it because he wanted to, or because he knew that it was something that you wanted."

"He was just acting, Virginia," Arthur said, weary. "It's what he does.

"And you're ashamed because you fell for it," she interpreted.

"Yes," Arthur said, shortly. He let out a breath. "I always disliked Eames because he's so good at getting under your skin. Somehow, he finds a way to get to you, and you don't even know how he did it. And now, I—I mean, I've never—I've never liked another man like that before." Every part of him desperately wanted to squirm out of this conversation, but he didn't think Virginia was going to let him drop it.

She looked at him with a gaze of pity and understanding. "Have you told him how you feel?" she asked.

"No," Arthur said. "And I never will. I can't—I can't give him the satisfaction of knowing that he got to me."

"What if he loves you back?" she asked.

Arthur shook his head. "He's willing to work closely with me. Maybe even respects me. But his one skill is playing people, Virginia. It's what he _does_."

She made a sound of frustration. "I don't understand how people like you and Vita can be so brave when it comes to planning and executing high-stakes dream heists, and then so afraid when it comes to taking risks with your feelings."

Arthur thought about how he'd rather get shot in the face over and over again, day after day, than tell Eames he was in love with him and get laughed at, which would be a sting that he would never be able to wake up from.

They reached the hedge maze. Arthur led them both through it, following the path he intimately knew to be the correct one.

"Now that I've finished baring my soul to you, how do you really feel about Vita?" he asked. "And don't worry, I'll let you be the one to tell her. Or not tell her, if you don't want to."

"Why do you want to know?" she asked.

"Because I like Vita. And I like you. And I really, truly, genuinely want the two of you to be happy."

"You're not only in this for the money?" she asked flatly.

"I'd give up the money if it meant that you'd be happy," Arthur said. He realized, with some surprise, that he meant it honestly. "God knows I have plenty of money already."

They took a left turn. Arthur knew that they were nearing the center of the maze, now.

Virginia thought about her answer for a long minute. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft, measured. "Vita is one of my oldest friends," she said. "I've known her for years. We've disagreed over things before, and we've fought, but we've always come back to each other in the end."

She glanced up at the sky, the clouds sketched into a cottony swirl of perpetual pink and orange overhead.

"I love her. But not in the way that she loves me," she confessed. "I've never been with a woman before. But you know what? If she'd just told me how she felt, if she'd _trusted_ me with the weight of that knowledge, I think maybe I'd have tried it. I'd have tried to love her back. I would've done that for her."

A tear slid down her cheek. She let it fall without wiping it away.

"I—I think I'm afraid of losing her, too," Virginia said. "I don't know how I'll ever be able to trust her again, after this. How I can be her friend, much less anything more."

"I hate being in love," Arthur admitted. "It makes you do stupid things. And if I'm going to have gay feelings, why can't my taste in men be better than it is?" He groaned.

"Well, what do you like about Eames? Besides his looks, I mean," Virginia asked.

"I like how tactile he is," Arthur said. "At first, I hated it, because I wasn't used to it and it made me uncomfortable, but then I started to derive comfort from it. All of the small touches and gentle reassurances..." Arthur missed them _God_ , he missed them. "And sometimes, just sometimes, he can use his ability to read people to do good," he continued. "Like when he notices that you're struggling, and then he does something small and quiet for you that's exactly what you need at the time, without expecting anything of you in return."

Virginia hummed a note of sympathy. "I'd fall in love with someone, too, if they were like that to me," she said.

They rounded the last corner, and Arthur once again found himself at the center of this maze. He looked at Virginia, watching her stare up at the fountain, her gaze carving out the shape of it, molding to the softness of the stone.

"What do you like about Vita?" Arthur asked. He knew they were going to be hearing the music, soon. They'd only gone under for a few minutes.

"I like how bold she is," Virginia said. "How determined. Once she commits to something, she'll follow through with it, no matter how hard it is for her. To have someone do that for you, it—it feels incredible. She's also steadfast. She stands beside you no matter what, through the thick and thin."

Virginia trailed her fingers along the edge of the fountain basin. Then she stopped walking and took a seat, looking out over the garden at the center of the hedge. She looked like she belonged here, in this world that Arthur had built for her based around the castle of her choosing.

The first echo of "Non je ne regrette rien" whispered on a distant breeze.

Arthur sat down next to Virginia. "We're about to wake up," he told her.

"Really? That soon?"

He nodded.

"Can you do something for me?" she asked, turning to face him.

He looked at her.

"Before you leave, tell Eames how you feel," she said. "Things might be messed up between me and Vita, but it would make me happy to think that at least one good thing came out of all of this."

"Even for a pair of criminals?" Arthur asked, wryly.

"You might need love even more than the rest of us," Virginia said.

Then, to Arthur's surprise, she leaned over and hugged him. He just closed his eyes and hugged her back. "Thank you," he whispered. "I'm sorry I helped hurt you."

"Thank you for trying to fix it," she said.

Then the music crested, and the feeling of the fountain and Virginia and the warm-cold garden air faded away, and Arthur was staring up at the ceiling of Vita's hotel room with a soft, fragile feeling in his heart.

* * *

"I might have something else that would work," Yusuf said. "It uses a different chemical than what was in the sedative you tried last time, Vita. You might react better to it. Or not. It's hard to say without testing which component specifically caused the adverse reaction."

Eames noticed, suddenly, that Arthur was awake, his gaze centered on Eames. Eames stared back questioningly, but for the first time, he found that he could not decipher Arthur's expression at all.

He shifted his gaze onto Virginia. She was looking at Eames, too. Which was to say unusual.

"How did it go?" Eames asked.

"Is it like that every time?" Virginia asked.

"Like what?"

"Beautiful," Virginia answered. "Peaceful. Like I was in a story." She closed her eyes.

Eames chuckled. "Well, thanks to people like Juno, it isn't always peaceful," he said. "We spent a good chunk of time in your mind getting shot at."

"But it can be very beautiful, and very enticing," Arthur added. "People get addicted to it. Once you've tried it, it's hard to leave it behind and never go back."

"Was it ever like that for you?" Virginia asked.

Arthur flinched. Eames expected him to answer with a flat denial or dodge the question, but to his surprise, Arthur gave her an honest response. "Yes," he said. "I think we've all experienced that. Me, Eames, Yusuf, even Juno. At the end of the day, we're all addicts chasing our next high."

"Do you still want to go into Vita's head, Virginia?" Eames asked. He glanced over at Vita, who was busy talking chemicals with Yusuf. She looked up when Eames said her name.

"Yes. But not if it will hurt her," Virginia said.

"Yusuf found a sedative that should be less risky," Vita said. "But even if my body reacts poorly to it, nothing will hurt me more than losing you."

Virginia blushed. She glanced at Arthur, and he gave her a little smile. Eames observed their interaction with interest.

Vita held out her arm to Yusuf. She met Virginia's eyes and said, "Hook me in."

Side by side, Virginia and Vita lay down on the bed, artificial veins connecting them. Eames, Arthur, and Yusuf just stared down at them.

"My apologies if you don't get paid," Eames said, directing the remark at Yusuf.

"You're lucky I didn't have anything else to do this week," Yusuf said.

After only a few minutes, Vita awoke with a loud gasp, her breathing harsh. Eames rushed over, but Virginia beat him to it, clutching Vita in her arms. "Vita! Vita!" she said. "Please tell me you're okay, honey."

Vita reached up and curled her fingers around Virginia's wrist. "I'm okay," she said, her voice all gravel. Then a tear slipped down her cheek, and she closed her eyes and softly cried.

Eames retrieved the PASIV, then he and Arthur and Yusuf left the room.

For a long moment, the three of them stood silently in the hall.

"Oh, shit, I'm going to miss my plane!" Yusuf said. He rushed off.

"We should probably start packing," Eames said, watching Yusuf come to a racing stop and dig around, panicked, in his pockets.

"Probably," Arthur said, with absolutely no urgency.

As soon as they stepped back into their hotel room, Arthur opened the closet door and started folding up his clothes. Eames, meanwhile, crouched down in front of his open luggage and tried his best to cram all of his clothes into it, wadding up his shirts and stuffing them into the corners.

They didn't really speak. The silence left Eames alone with his thoughts, though he didn't really know what to do with them. He didn't look forward to getting on the plane.

"Eames," Arthur started.

Eames looked up.

"I—" Arthur was interrupted by a knock at the door. He moved to answer it.

They walked back into the room, and Eames saw that their guest was Vita.

"I came to tell you that you're both getting paid in full," Vita said, all-business. Eames identified it as a reaction to the vulnerability that she'd reluctantly revealed earlier.

"I don't really want money for this job," Arthur said, sitting down at the edge of the bed.

Someone made a noise of shock. Eames realized, belatedly, that it had been him.

"I want to compensate you for doing a great service for me," Vita insisted, her voice fierce with determination.

"You already bought us a vacation," Arthur said.

"It hasn't been much of a vacation," Eames pointed out. "We have been working this whole time, darling."

Arthur shrugged. "I still don't want to get paid for it. It feels wrong."

Eames sighed. "What on earth made you suddenly develop a sense of morals?"

"Virginia," Arthur said, simply.

Eames desperately wanted to know what they'd talked about in the dream they'd shared. He was getting the sense that he'd missed something important, something key to who Arthur was as a person.

"Then let me give you a real vacation," Vita said. "Just as a gift. A kindness. You can each pick where you want to go, what you want to do. Whatever you want for a week, as long as it's within my means."

"Why?" Arthur asked.

"Because I was wrong about you, Arthur," Vita said. "Eames told me that you could do it, and I doubted him, and I doubted you, and then you turned out to be the only person who could save my friendship with Virginia. You took a risk that I was too afraid to take myself."

Arthur regarded her. Once again, Eames couldn't tell what was going through his head.

"You don't have to decide now," Vita said. "Think about it. Take some time. Then when you've figured out what you want, contact me, and I'll have it arranged."

"Okay," Arthur said, acquiescing.

Vita checked her watch. "Fuck, you should already be in the taxi on the way to the airport. I'll let you finish packing. Goodbye, Arthur, Eames. We'll see each other again someday, I hope." She nodded at each of them in turn, then turned and left.

After the door shut behind her, Eames glanced over at Arthur. "She's right, you know," Eames said. "We only pulled this off because of you. You've surprised me, Arthur. I didn't know you had it in you."

Arthur set down the nicely folded shirt he'd grabbed. He stood up. "That's because I don't," he said. "That's what I was about to tell you. I can't act to save my life."

"That isn't true," Eames said. "You duped every single person at that party. You were brilliant."

"The only person I lied to was myself, Eames," Arthur said, weary.

"What?"

Arthur fixed him with a firm, steady stare. "I got so good at convincing myself that I enjoyed it, that I was in love with you, that at some point, I started liking you for real. Congratulations, Eames. You're so good at what you do, you even conned a conman."

The words were so much to process, Eames had to sit down. He watched, dumbly, as Arthur looked away and resumed busying himself with packing as if he hadn't uttered a handful of sentences that utterly shattered Eames' entire sense of what their working relationship was like.

"But I thought you said you were straight," Eames croaked out.

Arthur laughed harshly. "Yeah, well, we don't always know everything we think we know about ourselves, do we?"

" _You_? Love _me_?" Eames asked.

"Unfortunately," Arthur said, still not looking at him.

"Why?"

Arthur paused. "I don't know," he said. "I've never actually been in love before."

Eames could tell how much Arthur struggled with that admission, unwilling to give up his shameful secret.

"But then you came along, and taught me how to let myself have it, how good it could be. Maybe I just couldn't help but fall for the first person who ever showed me what it's like to be in love. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," Eames said, his thoughts still tumultuously pouring over his memories of all of their interactions. He remembered the warmth of Arthur's hand, the soft press of his lips, the hot grind of his body against Eames that time they'd made out in the hall.

"Aren't you going to gloat?" Arthur said, bitterly. "You won, Eames. You played me, tricked me, manipulated me, and I watched it all happen and I _still_ fell for it."

"Is that all that you think of me?" Eames spoke quietly. "Really, Arthur? After everything?"

Finally, Arthur looked at him. His face was guarded, his expression showing that he was in a state of emotional lockdown, a failsafe reaction to protect himself.

"I never did _any_ of this to trick you," Eames said. "I was only working the job. I didn't even consider the possibility that you could—that we could actually get something real out of all of this."

"We're going to miss our flight." Arthur sat down heavily on the edge of the mattress.

"Bugger the flight," Eames said. There will always be more flights. But there was only one opportunity to have this conversation with Arthur, and Eames would be damned if he let them both throw it away like that.

"Juno said that you don't even fuck people that you work with, anyway," Arthur said.

"Yeah, well, we're not working right now, are we?" Eames shot back.

He uttered it without thinking, but as soon as the meaning of his own words caught up to him, he realized that he wanted it. He wanted Arthur's tongue in his mouth, Arthur's lithe body pinned to the mattress beneath him. And, not only that, but he missed the weight of Arthur's head on his shoulder after they'd pulled a late night. He missed Arthur's hands in his, his steadying, electrifying presence on the dance floor. He missed the domestic ease of waking up in the morning with Arthur, grumpy yet still somehow adorable.

"Oh fuck, I think I'm in love with you, too," Eames said. He rubbed at his face with his hands. When his hands fell away, he saw that Arthur was staring at him, open-mouthed.

"I guess we both played each other, then," Eames said. He stood up. Arthur's eyes tracked him as he stepped nearer, closing the distance between them. "I don't care what you say about your acting ability. You were good enough, you made me fall for you, too," Eames murmured.

He reached up and grasped Arthur's face gently in his hands, then he leaned over and kissed him.

Arthur let out a soft gasp when their lips made contact. He kissed back tentatively at first, just reacquainting himself with Eames's lips, then hungrily, like he was making up for lost time.

They kissed until breathing became difficult.

"What do you want?" Eames asked, his voice low and rough.

"I want you to show me," Arthur said, kissing him with a gentle bite on his lips. "Show me what it can be like."

Eames's hands wandered onto Arthur's chest. He could feel Arthur's heavy breaths, the warmth of him beneath his clothes, the pounding of his heart. He reached to pull Arthur's shirt open, but Arthur made an annoyed sound and pushed his hands away.

"Don't ruin a perfectly fine shirt," Arthur said. "Vita paid good money for this." He started to undo the buttons himself, his fingers working deftly, but slowly.

Eames chuckled, breathless, his gaze unbearably fond as he stared at this pretentious enigma of a man that had somehow, against all odds, stolen his heart.

Arthur finished unbuttoning his shirt, then shed it very carefully and dropped it on top of his mostly packed bag. He reached for Eames, next, unbuttoning him in turn. Eames's breath hitched when Arthur's fingers grazed his bare skin.

Eames shrugged out of his shirt and let it fall to the floor. He pulled Arthur close, bare chest against his bare chest, and Arthur ground into him a bit, the front of his trousers tented. Eames let out a ragged gasp, pressing back against him.

Arthur's hand slipped between them, cupping Eames briefly, then pushing him away. Arthur worked at the fastenings of Eames's trousers. As soon as he let go, Eames's hands were on him, hastily undressing him. Arthur panted into his mouth as Eames handled the front of his trousers.

Finally, both of them stood there clothed only in their pants. Eames went in for another kiss, and this time Arthur made no move to push him away. Eames's hard cock rubbed against Arthur's, only two thin layers of fabric separating them. They rutted against each other until the fabric grew damp, and Eames could no longer bear anything less than full skin-on-skin contact, so he shed his pants, then hooked his fingers in the waistband of Arthur's pants and pulled them down.

At the slide of Eames's dick against his own, Arthur let out a moan. Eames took them both in hand, and Arthur shuddered against him.

"What do you want?" Eames asked again.

"Anything. I don't care," Arthur said.

Gently, Eames pushed Arthur down onto the bed, then climbed on top of him. He spat into his hand and used it to reduce the friction between their cocks. They kissed and thrust desperately into each other, all heat and slick pleasure. Eames briefly toyed with the idea of sucking Arthur off, but didn't want to stop kissing him, and didn't want to give up the pressure of Arthur's body pushing up against his cock, so he decided to leave it for another night.

Because there would be another night after this one. Other mornings, too. Other shared hotel rooms, other desperate words spilt in quiet moments.

When Arthur came, Eames kissed the breath from his mouth as he stroked him.

Then Arthur's hand took over, and Eames spilled on his stomach after only a few more strokes.

When his senses returned to him, Eames was lying beside Arthur, partially on top of him, one arm spread over him, and Arthur's eyes were closed, but he was grinning.

"Fuck," Eames said, a realization just now hitting him. "I'm out of lube."

Arthur's eyes snapped open. "And they say modern romance is dead," he said, dryly.

"I already told you I loved you, darling. Couldn't top that no matter how hard I tried." Eames kissed his cheek.

"You're not topping anything without lube," Arthur said. "Maybe we'll just have to stay here another day."

Eames had an idea, suddenly. He mulled it over for a couple minutes before voicing it. "We could take Vita up on her offer to give us a vacation," he said. "We could go somewhere together. I mean, that is, if you want to—"

Arthur cut him off with a kiss. "Yes," he said. "I— _yes_."

Eames lazily kissed him back, feeling sleepy and boneless.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Arthur said.

"Mmm?"

"The mess you made on my stomach."

"Part of it is _your_ mess," Eames pointed out. "Besides, they'll be washing the sheets anyway."

"But we still have to sleep in them, first," Arthur said. "Actually, you know what, I'm just going to take a shower." He pulled away from Eames and slid out of bed. Eames watched him walk toward the bathroom, his eyes appraising Arthur's slim body. Arthur turned around, catching him in the act. "Coming?" he asked.

Eames threw back the covers. "Ideally, yes," he said, entering the bathroom behind Arthur. "But I'm not as young as I used to be, darling, so you might have to give me a few more minutes before I can get it up again."

* * *

As he watched Eames sink down onto his knees, water dripping down his face, droplets sluicing down his bare chest, Arthur felt dizzy.

"I'll be honest, I've never blown a straight man before," Eames said, to Arthur's very erect dick.

"Oh, shut up," Arthur said.

Eames shrugged. "Okay," he said. Then he leaned forward and wrapped his lips around the head of Arthur's cock, and his mouth was no longer free to form words.

Arthur leaned back against the cold tile and just sunk into the sensation of Eames's hot, wet mouth on him. He reached out, tentatively, and placed his hand on Eames's head, threading his fingers threading through his hair. Eames was ridiculously, mind-blowingly good at this, and Arthur would be irritated about that if he wasn't blissed out five ways to heaven right now. It was difficult to think in general while he was getting sucked off, but right now he especially appreciated the relief.

"I'm going to come," he grit out, in warning.

Eames responded by taking him deeper.

Arthur came with a muffled whine, his legs shaking. He watched as Eames's throat worked, swallowing it down, then Eames pulled his lips off of Arthur's cock, and he looked up at Arthur with a slanted grin, and Arthur felt very weak, all of the sudden, like he was about to slide down the tile wall toward the floor. But Eames caught him, wrapping gentle arms around him, and he stayed upright. He could feel Eames's cock standing at attention against his thigh, though Eames appeared to feel no sense of urgency about it.

"Do you want me to—to," Arthur started to ask.

"Only if you want to," Eames murmured.

Arthur did want to. He moved to kiss Eames, then started to work his way down Eames's body, tasting his skin, pressing little kisses into the dips and shadows of his neck and chest and stomach. When he reached Eames's cock, he didn't quite know what to do with it, but also didn't want Eames to know that he didn't know what to do with it, so he kissed the tip of it then worked his mouth open, taking it inside. The feel of it in his mouth was weird, the taste even weirder, but he was in love with the sounds he dragged from Eames's lips, the pressure of Eames's hands on the back of his head, the cant of his hips as he tried to restrain himself from bucking into Arthur's mouth.

"Arthur—" Eames warned him.

Arthur just kept licking and sucking, as Eames had done. Even so, the shot of cum down his mouth took him by surprise, and he choked on it, coughing and sputtering. Most of it ended up down the drain, but he did manage a weak swallow, not wanting Eames to have bested him entirely.

"You didn't have to do that, you know," Eames said, his voice wrecked.

"Yeah, I did," Arthur said. He wiped his mouth, then stood up.

Eames pulled him close, kissing him softly. Arthur lost himself in it, giving up his awareness of time and all else under the spray.

Eventually, Eames reached behind himself and turned off the shower. Arthur clung to him for a moment longer, lamenting the feel of the cold air on his wet skin, then stepped away to retrieve his towel.

They toweled off, then returned to bed.

As soon as he was back under the covers, Arthur felt the familiar sense of vulnerability return to him, along with his usual impulse to immediately repress and hide it. He took a hard breath, then turned onto his side and curled into Eames, tucking his head into Eames's neck.

"Where do you want to go? On vacation, I mean," Arthur asked, sleepy and comfortable.

Eames spent a long moment in silence before he gave an answer. "Somewhere warmer than this," he said. "And I'd rather go somewhere I've never been before. At least, not for a job."

"Somewhere new would be nice," Arthur said. They were both very well-traveled; it would be difficult to find a place that was new to both of them. "We can choose somewhere tomorrow."

Eames hummed agreement.

"After we buy some lube," Arthur added.

Eames chuckled. Arthur could _feel_ his laughter more than he could hear it, and he smiled against Eames's skin.

"Y'know, I kind of wish we could've done Virginia's party as a real couple," Arthur said. "Without the job."

"Really?" Eames asked. "I didn't think you enjoyed that kind of thing."

"I didn't think I did, either," Arthur said. But he loved the dancing, and the fancy clothes, even the grand, overblown castle. He'd liked getting swept off his feet, the stolen kisses, the quiet intimacy blooming between them, the knowing smiles from strangers. "But I'm trying to be more honest with myself," he confessed. "You were right." He looked up, but couldn't quite find Eames's eyes in the dark.

"I'm proud of you, you know," Eames said. "Have I said that yet?"

"No. "Arthur smiled.

"I'm proud of you for everything it took for you to do this job—and don't try and tell me that you can't act, or that you didn't actually work to do any of the things that you did. I know this was hard for you, yet you still did it." Eames's arm squeezed him gently. "And I'm proud of you for letting yourself be happy," he said. "Though admittedly, that one's partially selfish." His hand wandered loosely down Arthur's back, then trailed back up.

Arthur didn't know what to say to that. His heart was pounding very hard, and he wondered if Eames could feel it, beating into his skin.

Eventually, Eames's arm around Arthur relaxed, and Arthur felt him ease into a heavy sleep. Soon, Arthur drifted off, too, lulled by the rise and fall of Eames's chest and the sense of warmth and peace that blanketed him.

Arthur woke, abruptly, to a sound that he gradually recognized as his ringtone.

He scrambled for his phone on the bedside table, looked at the number, and hit answer.

"Ariadne?" he asked blearily. "It's 6 AM. What's going on?"

Beside him, Eames shifted, opening his eyes to stare at Arthur questioningly.

"Oh, I thought you were supposed to be back in the states," Ariadne said. "Did the job go okay?"

 _Oh, right. Time zones_. "Yeah," Arthur said, sitting up. He leaned against the headboard. "We just had a bit of a late night."

Eames chuckled, moving to sit up beside Arthur.

"We?" Ariadne asked, suspiciously. "Wait, was that Eames that I heard?"

Arthur was so utterly unprepared for this moment, he almost dropped his phone. After a long moment of silence that was thick enough to cut with a knife, he managed a weak "Uh..."

"Oh my god," Ariadne breathed. "Sorry, I just—wow, I was not expecting—" She cut herself off.

"Why are you calling, Ariadne?" Arthur asked, sighing. He felt Eames's fingers wrap around his hand, Eames's head coming down to rest on his shoulder, and he took the wordless emotional support gratefully.

"Well, you know that Christmas is coming up, and Dom told me that you don't spend it with family, so I thought—"

"Wait, _Dom_ told you?" Arthur asked. "Dom Cobb?"

"Yes," she said. "We are friends, you know. After everything we've been through in each other's heads, you either come out of that unable to ever look at each other again, or you're closer than anyone else in your lives."

Arthur thought that maybe, he could understand that.

"Anyway," Ariadne continued, "Dom knows that my own family situation is pretty shitty, so he invited me to come spend Christmas with him and the kids, and we both thought we should also invite you. Eames can come, too, if he wants."

This thing between him and Eames still felt exceptionally fragile and new, and Arthur wasn't sure how to even imagine it would look in a few weeks from now, a month, a year. He couldn't imagine holding Eames's hand in front of Dom, or smiling at him like a man in love, or kissing him. Dom and Arthur had seen each other die a thousand times over, and Arthur had seen Dom in love, and then had seen Dom's grief over Mal haunt them both for months, but Dom had never seen Arthur in love with anyone before.

Eames squeezed Arthur's hand. _If you want this, I want this_ , the gesture said.

"Okay," Arthur said. "You can tell Dom that we'll be there."

"Good." Ariadne exhaled. "So, are you going to tell me how it went?" she asked.

"Um."

"The job, I mean," she clarified. "Eames told me a little bit about it at the very beginning, but the whole thing just seemed so _different_."

Arthur transferred the phone to his other hand, holding it between Eames's ear and his own so that both of them could participate in the conversation. "Yeah, it _was_ different," Arthur said. "It was a bit of an extraction, and a bit of an inception."

"And then, in the end, it was something else entirely," Eames added, flashing Arthur a grin.


End file.
